Rebel Angel
by hpsavvy
Summary: Sequel to The Career and The Cripple. Against all odds, Memorie Renwick survived the 25th Hunger Games. Now she'll do anything to help new tributes and thwart the Capitol, even if it means endangering her life again.
1. Going Home

They don't tell you what happens when you win the Hunger Games. They don't tell you that the arena truly _is_ a game, compared to what follows. They didn't tell me, or I might have begged Neera to let me die. And she might have listened.

But they didn't tell me, and Neera, for all her encyclopedic knowledge of the Games, hadn't realized. And so I was alive, and she was dead, and I was learning that hell wasn't a desert, but a gleaming city filled with inhuman people.

I sat up in bed and stretched carefully, feeling my neck and shoulders protest that I shouldn't move so vigorously after a nightmare like the one I'd just faced. I ignored the pain – I was used to it, because I had some variation of the same dream every night, and every morning I awoke with the same strained muscles.

_Thirty-two days,_ I thought. _Thirty-two days since Neera Salotti, career from District Two, committed the most rebellious act Panem has seen since the war, and no one noticed._

It was that thought that finally gave me the energy to stand up, though I winced when my bare feet hit the cold tile. The discomfort was a welcome reminder that I wasn't dreaming again.

A knock on the door made me jump, and I walked down the hall and through my living room to answer it. A Capitol woman stood there, towering over me with high heels and an elaborate pink and orange tower of hair.

"Good morning, ma'am," I said, veiling my surprise with politeness. "May I help you?"

"Good morning, Memorie. My name is Theta Honeyman, and I'm the new escort for District Three," the woman informed me, her Capitol accent already grating on my patience. "I came to inform you that the train will be leaving for your district in three hours."

"Thank you, Theta," I said, opening the door wider. "Please, do come in. Would you care for some breakfast?"

Theta looked shocked. Then her eyes widened, as did her smile, and she stepped into my apartment, chattering away. "Oh my goodness, it's going to be so wonderful to work with you, dear! This is ever so much of an improvement over my last district. What lovely manners!"

I smiled in return, but was glad to turn toward the wall to order our food. Theta Honeyman looked familiar because she'd been District Two's escort – Neera's escort – during the Quarter Quell. When I returned to the table, I held an assortment of pastries, confections I thought Theta would enjoy. I added grapefruit juice and hot chocolate before waving Theta toward one of the comfortable chairs surrounding the table.

"Now, dear, you must be wondering what happened to your old escort," Theta said after a brief pause during which poured herself a glass of juice. "Well, Olivia Fairbank happens to be an old friend of mine, and she agreed to switch districts with me for…um, various reasons." I didn't think I was imagining the blush working its way across Theta's face under the heavy makeup, and I raised an eyebrow. "To make a long story short," she continued, "both of us wanted a change of scene." With that, Theta took a large bite out of her cherry pastry, effectively closing the subject.

"Regardless of the reason, I'm sure it's lovely to have you," I murmured, burying my face in a large mug of hot chocolate to hide my curiosity. By the time I surfaced, Theta was rambling again.

"…really doing Olivia a favor. Do you know how much work one has to do when one's district has a victor? The scheduling for the Victory Tour alone takes days to arrange!" I smiled and nodded, and wondered why Theta had really switched to District Three.

We finished our meal and Theta excused herself so I could get dressed. "Remember, you have to look nice for the cameras! This is such a big day for everyone!" she reminded me as I closed the door behind her. I sighed. Looking nice for the cameras was something I'd had more than enough time to perfect in the past few weeks, along with faking politeness and a happy smile to go with my pretty outfits.

When the sound of Theta's clicking heels had faded, I leaned my forehead against the inside of my door and took a deep breath.

Home. I was going home today, and I wondered how it would feel. The Games had changed me; I was no longer the same shape, physically or mentally, that I'd been when I last saw my District. Was this going to be an exercise in futility, the metaphorical square peg in a round hole? Insanity wasn't an option – I owed Neera that much – but sanity wasn't going to be fun.

In the shower, I smoothed strawberry-scented cream into my hair and tried to list all the children at the daycare center I'd run at home. _Magnus, Leo, Kane, Warner, Cody…_ Those were all boys, and the last name brought tears to my eyes, because Cody had been the name of my district partner, a thirteen-year-old who had died during the bloodbath.

_Dahlia, Sophie, Noelle, Morgan, Gentry… _I rinsed my hair as I listed the girls, making sure I could put a face to each name, because the girls, unlike the boys, would be disappointed if I left anyone out by accident. As I stepped out of the shower and into the dryer, I couldn't shake the suspicion that I was forgetting someone – it certainly didn't say much for my memory if I'd forgotten a child when I'd been gone less than two months.

I stepped into a dark blue dress, one I'd chosen days ago for the train ride home because it was comfortable and wouldn't wrinkle easily. Critically, I spun in front of the full-length mirror, examining my reflection before deciding to add a few sparkling clips to my hair, pulling it back from my face. I didn't want to appear shy in front of the cameras or my district because my hair fell into my face at an inopportune moment.

_Don't think about her, don't think about her,_ I chanted to myself, as I often did these days. Neera's memory was useful to me, but not if I dissolved into tears every time I remembered some small thing she'd done or said. Like braiding my hair, those deadly hands unbelievably gentle…

_No. Don't think about that._

Before my mind could continue down that destructive path, I left the bathroom and busied myself choosing a pair of shoes to go with the dress. The Capitol had stocked my closet with toweringly high heels, probably another phase of their attempt to make everyone forget that I'd once been unable to walk under my own power. My new leg could handle any of the shoes they threw at me, but I deliberately picked one of the less outrageous pairs, because I wanted to look like myself today.

_I'm not myself, not anymore. I won't live in my old apartment; my new apartment is in the Victor's Village, and it's huge. I won't work at the daycare; I'm a victor, and that's a full-time occupation by itself._

Bitterly, I shook my head to clear the thoughts. I must've been truly desperate for a distraction, because I walked to the living room and switched the television on. I was promptly greeted by a magnified vision of my own face. My cheeks were dirty, my lips cracked from dehydration, and I flinched away from the screen, realizing they were replaying the Games. Again.

The push of a button changed the channel, this time to something harmless, an inane Capitol drama about a love triangle between a Gamemaker, a politician and the owner of a clothing shop. Settling on the couch, I watched the increasingly ridiculous activities of the trio onscreen until another knock on my door told me it was finally time to leave.

Unsurprisingly, it was Theta Honeyman, dressed in something sparkling and silver that nearly blinded me as I stepped outside and shut the door. It clashed horribly with her hair, but after weeks in the Capitol, I was beginning to think that was the point.

"You look lovely, dear," said Theta, sweeping me into a hug that nearly choked me, so strongly was it scented with lilac perfume. "But, oh, goodness, couldn't you have chosen a brighter color? Pink would look phenomenal with all that pretty blonde hair!"

_Yes, and then my district might think I was trying to match _you_, _I thought with a small shudder. "Thank you for the advice, Theta," I said instead, flashing her a sweet smile. I had no desire whatsoever to alienate my new escort – Olivia had been awful, mainly because she was bitter at having a pair of tributes with no hope of winning the Games. _At least she'll like Two. They have more winners than anyone._

We walked together to the elevator, exchanging small talk. "Tell me, Theta, are you disappointed not to have many previous victors to talk to now that you're the escort for my district?" I asked. "I know District Two has four victors so far. I've only met Varius de Luca and Allison Romano, but they seemed like wonderful people." That was a bit of a stretch – Varius had been surly, mourning his dead trainee, and Allison had demonstrated a propensity for joking about things that made me uncomfortable – but both had been unexpectedly kind to me, so I didn't mind.

Theta let out a high-pitched laugh so clearly false I had to stop myself from turning and staring. "Yes, yes, lovely. Mr. de Luca, in particular, was very welcoming. District Three suits me better, though. I must say, you seem much more…refined…than anyone I've met from District Two."

I laughed for real, one of the first times I'd done so since before the arena. _Varius and Theta, huh? Maybe that's why she switched districts. _"I hope the rest of my district continues to deserve the compliment," I simpered, wishing I could say what I meant. _If your idea of refinement is wasting food, profiting from the pain of others and watching children die, we want no part of it._

The rest of our walk was silent as I debated how best to use my newfound knowledge and Theta – I speculated – thought about her hair, clothes, or whatever else occupied the minds of Capitol fashionistas these days. There was no reason to blackmail my district's escort yet, so I'd save the leverage in case I needed it later. Actually, I wasn't even sure if I _had_ leverage. Was it illegal for an escort and a mentor to be in a relationship?

A media circus awaited us down by the train, and I recalled how Flux, my mentor, had cleared a path through the crowd when Cody and I had arrived at the Capitol. He'd been perpetually drunk and hadn't bothered to give us much advice for the Games, but at least he'd cared a little. And he'd helped Neera, which was why he'd been killed. I couldn't forget that.

Flux was dead, so Theta and I had to make our own hole through the seething mass of Capitolians with video cameras. One reporter pushed a microphone in my face, asking, "Memorie, how does it feel to be going home?"

I ignored her and shoved my way onto the train, knowing that if I stopped to answer one question, ten more reporters would waylay me. A dark-haired Avox slid the door closed behind us, immersing the compartment in blessed quiet.

"Well, that was certainly something," said Theta, shaking her head. "You must be the most popular victor in years! I haven't seen a crowd like that since Varius won, and I only remember that because my friends and I all skipped school to watch him leave. What?" she asked, frowning at me. "I'm not that old."

"Of course not," I murmured, turning toward the corridor that led to the sleeping cars. Truthfully, I hadn't been thinking about her age at all; I was still mourning the dead. "I'm going to rest, but I'll see you at dinner, Theta," I informed her, taking my leave before she could unleash another stream of words.

Even compared to my Capitol apartment, the train was luxurious. It was on a smaller scale, certainly, but was no less ornate for its diminutive size. And my closet was only slightly less extravagant, I discovered, rifling through the clothes in case there was something I preferred to my blue dress. There wasn't, so I sat on the bed, drawing the soft coverlet over my legs and preparing to sleep for most of the four-hour journey to District Three.

A soft knock on the door woke me from my nightmare, and I sat up with a choking gasp before I remembered where I was. The dark-haired Avox stood outside my door, and he motioned for me to follow him. He led me to the dining car, where Theta sat before a veritable feast, waiting for me.

"There you are, dear. Did you have a pleasant rest?" Theta had followed her own advice and was now wearing a pink dress and matching shoes. Her lipstick was brilliant pink against her teeth when she spoke.

"Yes, thank you," I said, sitting down across from her. The food smelled wonderful as always, and I loaded my plate with vegetables, which were hard to come by in my district. _Not anymore. Now you can buy whatever you want, because you're a victor._

We had barely finished our meal when the train began to slow with a loud screeching of brakes. I shot out of my seat and glued my face to the nearest window, ignoring Theta's protest as I strained to catch a glimpse of my district.

It was late evening, so the sky was dark, and I could see the lights of District Three's factories glowing against the blacker mass of the apartments, which rarely had electricity at night. The train ground to a halt, and I saw the shape of people silhouetted against the harsh light of the station. In our district, trains usually ran to the Capitol filled with electronics and computer components, so the loading area was designed for freight, not an audience.

It was an audience that was waiting for me, though. I heard them even before I wrenched the door open. They were cheering my name. This was the first time I recalled that because I'd won, everyone in my district would get extra food for a year, so I was smiling as I stepped from the train.

Mayor Platina reached for my hand, and I allowed him to take it. He, like everyone else I could see, had a smile on his face. "Welcome home, Memorie," he said warmly. "Please believe me when I say I speak on behalf of the entire district in offering our heartfelt thanks."

"I'm glad to have been of service, Mayor," I said. The words were stilted, overly formal, and not at all what I wanted to say when I was seeing the people I knew and loved for the first time in months, but I'd been in the Capitol too long to remember how to be sincere.

The mayor seemed happy to hear them anyway, because he grinned wider and held my hand up over my head in a gesture of victory. And then the kids from my daycare were there, Cody and Gentry and Magnus and _Adeline, that's who I forgot earlier_, hugging me and yelling over each other, and I was hugging them back, and the tears I'd been holding in for so long were streaming down my cheeks.

"Oh, Em, I'm so glad you're home!" cried one of the younger girls – I couldn't see who because there were so many little hands reaching for me and the tears were blurring my vision.

"We all watched you," added a boy named Jonas. "Every day. We all thought you were going to die, but you never did." His voice was full of something like awe, and I wished Neera were here to see the gift she'd given these kids by sending me home. But if she was here, I'd be dead, so there went that line of reasoning.

"I'm glad to be home," I said, wiping my tears away – there would be cameras, even here, and I didn't want my joy construed as weakness.

"Will you be my mentor if I'm chosen for the Games?" Jonas asked. "I just turned twelve last Tuesday." The tears threatened to flow again, but I nodded vigorously and made myself smile. _Please don't let me have to mentor any twelve-year-olds, _I prayed.

I looked up, saw the mayor exchanging wary greetings with Theta, and stood up, gently brushing the children off. "She's had a long day, Mayor Platina," Theta was saying. "Where is Victor's Village in this district? I'll send the Avoxes with her things."

The mayor looked at me, though. Nodding in answer to the plea in his eyes, I placed a hand on my escort's shoulder. "Thank you for your consideration, Theta, but I'd like to spend some more time with the people from my district before I go to my apartment," I said. "You're perfectly welcome to leave; I'm sure you're tired too. The Avoxes can deliver my stuff in the morning."

Theta conceded with poor grace, muttering that I would overtax myself on my very first day home, and didn't these people have any respect for their victor? But I gave her the same look I used on disobedient children – eyes wide, eyebrows raised reprovingly – and she retreated, leaving me free to step down from the platform and into the crowd.

Like the children, people reached out to touch me, a sea of hands lightly brushing my shoulders, my back, my hair. Wherever I walked, silence fell, until it seemed I was walking in a dream world. When I reached the far edge of the station, I turned, standing with my back to the darkness that engulfed the rest of District Three. Only now did I see how many people there were. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they filled the station, just like on reaping day. This had to be almost everyone in the district.

The mayor picked something up from the platform and met my eyes over the heads of all the people. He spoke, his voice amplified by some hidden microphone I'd missed earlier. "Memorie Renwick, we sent you to the Games unknowingly and without support. Against all odds, you returned to us. You had no district token to carry into the arena, so we wish to give you one now, to show our appreciation."

He leaned down and passed something to one of the men standing at the foot of the platform. A ripple went through the crowd as the object moved from person to person, making its way steadily toward me. Finally, a young woman placed the thing into my outstretched palm, and I gazed down at it in wonder.

In my hand rested a necklace. The pendant was a little golden angel, complete with halo and hands folded in prayer. When I picked it up, intending to fasten it around my neck, I caught a glimpse of words etched into the back. _For Em Renwick, our angel._

"Thank you," I choked, hoping I was loud enough for everyone to hear. I had no idea how much something like this would cost, and for them to give me any gift at all, especially now that I was wealthier than the mayor himself, was astounding.

The crowd began to disperse, one person after another filing past me in the direction of their apartments. I thanked each one again, and received more smiles than I'd thought my district could hold in a single day. Eventually, Mayor Platina appeared at my shoulder, ushering the last few people out of the station gate.

"You know the way to Victor's Village, Memorie," he said. "Would you like me to escort you there?"

"No thank you," I said softly, still stroking the golden angel with my fingertips. "I'd like some time alone, if you don't mind. The walk will be nice." In our district, Victor's Village wasn't a village at all, but a luxurious apartment building with seven floors. Each floor was meant to house a victor, but we'd only had one – Flux – and he was dead now. I wondered which floor they'd given me.

The sixth, it turned out. I'd reached the white stone building in fifteen minutes; it had always been easy to find, contrasting as it did with the dark concrete-and-steel schema that typified the rest of the structures in the district. I pressed my hand to the scanner beside the towering glass doors, and they opened with a soft chime.

With difficulty, I located the stairwell. It was tucked unobtrusively into one corner, and I suspected it was intended for the maintenance staff only, not the victors, but that was too bad, because I had two working legs for the first time in years, and I wanted to use them. I climbed flight after flight of stairs, checking each door to see if it was unlocked.

The handle to the sixth floor door yielded under my hand, and I pushed it open, blinking in the comparative brightness.

"How do you like it?" someone asked, and I spun in a circle, nearly losing my balance.

Leaning against the wall behind me was a woman with dark, curly hair and green eyes. A smug grin was plastered across her face, and it was that which allowed me to recognize her without the makeup and elaborate clothing she had worn in the Capitol.

"Allison," I breathed, surprising myself with how glad I was to see her.

"Welcome home, Renwick," she said.


	2. Allison

"What are you doing here?" I asked, realizing a moment too late like I sounded annoyed to see her.

Sure enough, she arched an eyebrow. Her grin turned to the smirk I'd seen in the Capitol, and she said, "And here I thought you'd be happy to see me. We victors have to stick together, you know."

"No, sorry, I'm glad you're here," I said hurriedly. "What I meant was, how did you _get_ here?" Last time I'd seen Allison, she'd been in my Capitol apartment, asking me to visit her in District Two if I got a chance.

"It wasn't difficult," Allison replied, pushing herself away from the wall and breezing past me. I followed her, finally beginning to take in my surroundings. "I put on an Avox uniform and hopped on the train with your little coterie of servants. Of course, that Honeyman woman would've recognized me, so I had to hide in the bar car until the train stopped. From there, all I had to do was keep pretending to be an Avox so I could get into your building when they dropped off your stuff."

I followed the wave of Allison's hand and saw that the Avoxes had indeed moved the things from my Capitol shopping spree into the apartment already, although I'd meant it when I said they could wait until morning. The small pile of items – most of it was medicine or toys for the kids; I'd order food once I was settled – sat in the middle of an expansive white-carpeted room. From the furnishings, I guessed the room was meant for entertaining, though who I was supposed to entertain, I didn't know.

"Come on, I'll show you the rest of it," Allison said, waving me onward. Briefly, I considered the irony of Allison Romano giving me a tour of my own home, but I merely shook my head and obeyed, following her down a short hallway into the kitchen.

"Welcome to my least favorite room," Allison intoned, adopting an exaggerated Capitol accent that made me laugh for the second time in one day. "Here we have the stove, with six burners ideal for scorching food into inedibility. And consider the double sink, which is absolutely ideal for drowning oneself in order to avoid having to wash dishes."

"I take it you're not the domestic type," I said wryly, interrupting Allison's monologue before she could start telling me how to use the oven to set fire to the apartment complex.

"How did you guess?" Allison asked. "Honestly, volunteering for the Games was the single best decision of my life. Not even my mother has dared bemoan my lack of proper cooking skills since I won, and she was the _worst_ before."

"Well, I'll have you know that I enjoy cooking, thank you very much," I huffed, pretending to be offended. That wasn't quite true; I was capable of producing an edible meal, but that didn't mean I liked it.

"You would," Allison snorted.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, not sure whether to be offended.

"You're Little Miss Perfect, aren't you? You love kids, you refuse to kill anyone in the arena, you crack jokes in front of a Capitol audience…of course you can cook."

I was reminded of how little I knew about Allison, despite the fact that I considered her a friend. "Do you resent me for any of that?" I asked quietly, studying her expression with care. "I know you had to kill during your Games."

"You watched my Games?" Allison asked, pretending to be stunned. I guessed I wasn't going to get a serious answer to my question at the moment.

"Well, the Hunger Games _are_ televised nationally, and since it's a crime not to watch, I suppose I did," I said breezily, willing to play her game. "I mean, it was years ago, so I don't remember much…" That much was true; I'd been twelve during the 21st annual Games, so I'd been far too busy celebrating the fact that I hadn't been reaped to really pay attention.

It was also the year after my leg had been crushed by one of the massive metal-stamping machines in the automotive factory, and I'd been lost in my own little world of pain and anger.

Now Allison looked offended, and I wasn't sure how much of it was part of her act. "You didn't pay attention to my Games? But I was amazing!" she grimaced at me, her four gold teeth glinting sharply in the light of the kitchen.

"I was only twelve!" I retorted, before realizing that probably wasn't much of an excuse in her district, where life seemed to revolve around the Hunger Games.

Sure enough, she dismissed my attempt with a toss of her head. "Great, now you're saying I'm old," she muttered under her breath.

"You're the second person who's accused me of calling her old today," I said. "And I really thought you were less vain than Theta Honeyman, but I suppose not."

She spun to face me, eyes narrowed. "Oh, you're good," she said finally, rewarding me with a small chuckle. "Save your manipulating for the Capitol from now on, and I think we'll make a good team. Now come on, I'll show you the bedrooms."

_A good team? What game are we playing now?_ I wondered, suddenly very tired. "This is the master bedroom, I think," Allison announced, opening a door at the end of the long hallway from the kitchen. Immediately, I winced: the room was decorated in shades of brown and beige with accents in yellow. It reminded me at once of the desert.

"Nope, I'm not sleeping here," I said, backing away. "Surely there are guest rooms? I'll take one of those."

Allison must've seen something in my eyes that convinced her not to argue, because she closed the door on the desert-colored room and led me back down the hall with her hand on my elbow. "Yes, you have two extra bedrooms," she confirmed. "I've already claimed the one closest to the stairs, so you're stuck with this one."

She opened another door, this time on a room painted a soothing shade of blue. A quick glance inside revealed the bed, a couch, a walk-in closet and an attached bathroom. "Since you've already invited yourself to stay the night, I suppose this will do," I said. "Won't someone be worried that you're missing, though?"

Allison laughed, and not in a good way. She tapped a finger against the inside of her left arm, saying, "If anyone really wants to find me, they just have to dig up my tracker signal. I've always wondered if the Capitol keeps the codes active so they can keep an eye on their victors."

I shivered. What an awful thought. Now Panem was just a big arena, and the Capitol could track my every move if they so chose.

"Yeah, isn't that wonderful?" Allison asked, voice positively dripping with sarcasm. "Anyway, try to get some rest. You can check out the rest of the place in the morning." And she left, disappearing down the hall on silent feet.

After a ten-minute search for the bathroom light switch, I took a brief shower and changed into a long nightshirt I found in the closet, then settled into bed. I tossed and turned for a good quarter of an hour before finally sitting up and throwing all but one pillow onto the floor in disgust. When I lay back down, it no longer felt like I was being suffocated, and I sighed in relief.

When I woke in the dark with the sound of a scream ringing in my ears, I thought for a split second I was back in the arena. Then I realized that didn't make sense, because I'd been the one screaming in the arena, and Neera had comforted me.

I slid out of bed and walked down the hall, going mostly by feel because Allison had turned the lights off when she went to bed and none of the switches in this apartment seemed to be in the logical places. A small eternity later, I found the third bedroom, the one next to the stairs.

The door was closed but not locked, so I twisted the knob and went inside. "Allison?" I called softly, unable to make out so much as the shape of the bed in the darkness. Suddenly, a hand was at my throat, gripping so tightly I could feel my windpipe creaking under the strain. I flailed my arms helplessly – my assailant was clearly much stronger than I – before my hand encountered a cool plastic protrusion on the wall behind me.

A light switch! I flicked it on, and the room was flooded with golden illumination.

"Shit, Memorie," said my attacker, releasing me at once. "Are you hurt? I'm sorry. That was –"

"Reflex, I know," I broke in, turning to face Allison. Her brown hair was tousled from sleep, but her eyes were alert as always. "Does everyone from your district have this urge to assault anyone who disturbs their rest?" I wanted to reach up and massage my neck, partially to reassure myself it was still in one piece, but I refrained, afraid I'd make Allison feel bad.

She walked over to the bed – I saw she'd removed _all_ the pillows, and everything except a single blanket – and sat down hard. "It's these damn dreams," she said bitterly, running her fingers through her hair. "They're not as bad as right after I got out of the arena, but they're still bad enough. God, Varius would be pissed. He never managed to teach me to sleep silently, even before the Games."

I sat on the bed beside her, and she shifted to face me, whether out of courtesy or fighting instinct I wasn't sure. "I've never seen a tribute come out of the arena without all kinds of phobias and nightmares," she said. "I was sure you'd have nightmares, but you never came to see me in the Capitol. Then I snuck in here tonight because I was afraid you were just waiting to off yourself like that boy from Six."

Allison had just said so many confusing things that I hardly knew where to begin. "Which boy from Six?" I asked first.

"The kid who won the 11th Hunger Games, the year of the earthquake. The Capitol tried to play it off as a house fire when he died, but Varius said he'd done it on purpose. I wanted to make sure you weren't just pretending to be calm until you were somewhere private where you could do the same."

"You thought I was going to kill myself?" I asked, disbelieving. "Neera died so I could live! I'm not throwing that away, no matter how many nightmares I have."

Allison sighed and relaxed a little – if I hadn't met Neera and Varius, I wouldn't have recognized the tiny slump of her shoulders as anything but part of her normal breathing – and gave me a ghost of her usual smile. "I doubted you'd kill yourself, but there was no harm in being sure," she replied.

"Well, I suppose I should thank you," I said grudgingly, though I was displeased that she'd considered me the type of person to do something like that. "What are your nightmares about? I keep dreaming that I'm walking across the desert with Neera, but she suddenly turns into Glint and comes after me with an axe." I hadn't discussed my bad dreams with anyone since Neera, and the nightmares I had now made the ones from the arena look positively cheerful.

"I have a bunch of different ones," Allison said. "Tonight, I dreamed that the pack turned on me and I spent days running from them. Then I ran out of water." She swallowed hard. "This was a new one. I usually don't scream anymore, but it took me by surprise. I woke up and thought I was back in the arena until you turned the light on."

I wished she didn't sound so ashamed for screaming when she'd had a nightmare. For the hundredth time, I wondered exactly what kind of training the District Two tributes faced in preparation for the Games. Neera had broken my arm when I touched her shoulder to wake her up, and now this. "No harm done," I told her, trying to sound reassuring. "Actually, it's good that you woke me, because I'm sure I would've started dreaming soon anyway, and that's never fun."

"So, you dream too," Allison mused. "How about the other stuff? Are you afraid of things that didn't bother you before?"

"Not really. I didn't want to sleep in the master bedroom because the colors reminded me of my arena, but other than that, I'm fine," I said. Privately, I thought it was probably because I hadn't come home to a district full of weapons, battle-hardened victors and deadly trainees like she probably had. "Oh, and I don't like looking at Varius' hair, because it's the same as Neera's," I added, because I hadn't been trying to come across as some fearless victor.

"What about me?" Allison asked. "Do I remind you of Neera?" There was an undercurrent to her tone I couldn't quite pin down, but I knew my answer was more important to her than she was letting me see.

"You have the same instincts, I think, probably because you were trained by Varius like she was," I said. "But other than that, no. You're nothing like Neera. For one thing, you would never have saved a helpless tribute like she did." It came out sounding harsh, but I knew it was true, and that was important.

"Damn straight," Allison said, her customary smirk finally finding its way back onto her face. "I'm a by-the-book kind of girl. None of that fancy heroics for me."

I was inexplicably glad she hadn't tried to claim that she would've done the same in Neera's place. It would have demeaned her sacrifice, somehow. "Let me guess, you're a good little Career," I teased, knowing Allison would have to respond to my taunt. "You always followed your mentor's orders to the letter, and you got lots and lots of sponsor gifts."

As I'd anticipated, Allison snorted, relaxing far enough to drop back onto the bed as she contemplated my comment. "I don't know if I'd go that far," she said, staring up at the ceiling. This bedroom was smaller and plainer than the other two, I noted, the walls and ceiling a simple off-white. "I did my fair share of improvisation during my Games. I did have lots of sponsors, though," she said, sounding smug.

"Although," she added darkly, "once you're home, sponsors aren't quite the blessing they were in the arena."

_No, I imagine they aren't_, I thought. The Capitol citizens I'd met acted like they owned me. It would probably be a hundred times worse if they'd spent exorbitant amounts of money to send me gifts that had ensured my survival. Then, they would think I owed them my life.

Besides, I'd been in the Capitol just long enough to find out what happened to the older, more attractive victors, ones like Allison and me. Varius too, I was sure, when he was a recent victor if not currently. People paid the government for the privilege of spending time with us, and what they did during that time was their own business.

So far, I'd been lucky. Tesla Monogram had purchased six hours with me so I could babysit his children while he and his wife went on a date – and, no doubt, so he'd have something to brag about the next evening on his talk show – but I knew from Allison's haunted look that she hadn't been as fortunate. It made sense, I supposed. She'd been a victor for four years, which meant the Capitol had had plenty of time to profit from her beauty.

My instinct was to offer Allison some gesture of sympathy, but I knew anything I said would sound empty, and rightly so. _Perhaps,_ I thought, _we can talk about it once I've been whored out a few times myself._

I looked up to find Allison staring at me, and I realized I'd been quiet for an awfully long time, effectively killing our conversation. I cleared my throat. "On that cheerful note, I'm going back to bed," I announced, hopping up with a jaunty smile I didn't feel. "And I'll remember to wear armor if I ever have to check on you after a nightmare again."

As had become my custom, I woke up around dawn. Since I'd been kept in a medically induced coma for so long after being pulled out of the arena, I had expected my sleep schedule to be out of whack for a few weeks at the very least. What I hadn't expected was to revert to the schedule Neera had kept during the Games.

After my shower, I went in search of Allison. The door to her room was open, so I poked my head inside, albeit warily. I had no desire to be strangled again if I took my guest by surprise. Fortunately, Allison saw me before I saw her.

"Good morning, sunshine," she sang. "You're up early." She was lying on her back on the floor with her feet wedged under the bedframe, doing crunches, but she paused to talk to me.

"Good morning, Allison. What are you doing?" I asked.

"My morning workout, what does it look like?" she replied, wrinkling her forehead in confusion.

"Yes, I see that," I said. "I meant to ask _why_ you're exercising at 6 a.m., actually."

If anything, her frown deepened. "This is what I do," she informed me unhelpfully. "This is what I've done every morning since I was eleven."

"That made sense when you were preparing for the Games, maybe," I acknowledged. _Emphasis on the _maybe_ – that seems extreme even for a Career. Did Neera train this hard?_ "But what's the point now? It's not like the Capitol's going to shove you back into the arena without warning."

Allison levered herself to her feet, and I could see that she was wearing a close-fitting outfit of dark shorts and a matching top. "Yeah, well, they would if they could. Besides, I only work out in the morning and the evening now, so it's nothing like when I was a trainee."

She walked toward the kitchen, and I trailed after her, automatically placing my feet in the prints her shoes were leaving in the thick carpet. In the kitchen, she began opening cupboards at random, and I saw that the room was already fully stocked.

"Where do you keep your protein powder?" she asked when the final cupboard failed to yield results.

"You know this place better than I do," I reminded her. "Besides, why do you want protein powder?"

"I have a twenty-ounce protein shake for breakfast every morning," she told me. "Neera probably did the same. It's part of the de Luca training diet."

"That sounds disgusting," I said, turning to open the refrigerator. It, too, was filled with food. "Here, let me make you some scrambled eggs," I prompted, removing the carton from the top shelf and placing it on the counter. "Eggs have protein."

"Okay, but only because I want to see if you can actually cook," Allison said, pulling a tall stool over to the stove and settling herself on it with an air of challenge.

"This isn't real cooking," I informed her. "Any kid can make scrambled eggs. If you're here tonight, I'll make you dinner, and _then_ you'll know I can cook." Part of my job at the daycare had been providing lunch for the children while their parents were at work in the factories, so I'd mastered a variety of quick and easy meals as well as a few more complicated ones.

"Well, it smells good," she said, leaning forward to inhale the steam that rose from the pan as I cracked eggs into it.

"Thanks. So, you said that two workouts a day was easier than training for the Games. How much do tributes do when they're preparing for the arena?" I asked.

"Once trainees turn twelve, they spend at least eight hours a day in the Training Center – the one in our district, obviously, not the Capitol – or working with their mentors individually," Allison replied casually.

My jaw dropped. "Neera told me training replaced school for the more serious candidates, but she never said…_eight_ _hours_…" I marveled.

"She probably didn't think you could handle it," Allison said. "The knowledge of how things work in Two, I mean, not the training. Obviously you couldn't train for eight hours a day. You'd collapse after two or three, I think." Her offhand tone made it clear she wasn't insulting me, just stating a fact. _Is that something they teach you in Two? How to look at a person and tell exactly how long they can keep fighting, or running?_

Would Neera have withheld information about her district for the sake of my peace of mind? In spite of everything, I hadn't known her well enough to say for sure, though it seemed likely. "No wonder the Capitol forbids children to prepare for the Games," I said. "And no wonder the ones who prepare anyway always win."

"_Almost_ always," Allison reminded me. "You're alive, aren't you? Besides, this is the fifth year in a row that someone besides my district has won the Games, so other things play into a victory. Luck. Intelligence. Sponsors."

"Still, it's unfair," I huffed. "Here, eat your eggs." I scooped them onto a white plate and handed it to Allison along with a fork.

_Is that what I'll have to do to keep my tributes alive?_ I wondered. _Make them into Careers? I can't. I won't. I'd rather every one of them died than have even one turn out like Glint._


	3. An Uneasy Alliance

As it turned out, Allison didn't get to stay for dinner. Shortly after we finished breakfast, a courier arrived at Victor's Village with a message, and when I buzzed him up, he handed Allison a pale blue envelope that made her face go pale.

"The Capitol calls," she said, and I knew she was keeping her voice light for my sake. That was the same kind of message I'd gotten when Tesla paid for me to babysit his children for the night, and I'd seen another victor, one whose name I didn't know, clutching a similar envelope and stalking out of my Capitol apartment building.

"There's one for you as well, Miss Renwick," the courier said, gesturing to the Avox who had accompanied him. She handed over a second blue envelope, this one with my name on the outside.

I accepted it with trembling hands, aware that Allison was watching me closely.

_Miss Memorie Renwick, _the letter read, _your presence is requested by Head Gamemaker Troy Gallegos at his home at 7 p.m. A team of stylists will be at your Capitol apartment at 5 p.m. to prepare you. Wishing you the best, President Snow._ The Capitol seal was stamped in black ink at the bottom of the page, below the president's signature.

"What time is yours?" Allison asked softly.

"Not until seven, but I have to meet my style team at five," I whispered.

"Oh, it's one of those," she said. Her tone didn't reassure me in the least. "Who is it with?"

"The Head Gamemaker," I told her.

"Yeah, I knew it had to be someone important. Damn. Gallegos is new, and I don't know if he's been with any of the victors," Allison cursed. "If it was anyone else, I could give you at least a bit of advice."

"It's okay," I said, even though it wasn't. "You have your own, um…person…to deal with. You shouldn't have to look out for me too."

Allison shook her head. "Neera would have helped you, and since she's not here, I'd like to do the same. Besides, Senior Undersecretary Whittaker is the one who bought me tonight, and he always falls asleep after we fool around for an hour or so. He's one of the nice ones."

Troy Gallegos, it transpired, was not one of the "nice ones." He was cruel and brutal and very, very angry that Neera and I had ruined the first Games he had orchestrated, and a Quarter Quell at that.

Those facts were made abundantly clear when I arrived at his mansion, accoutered in glittering white by my prep team – Serena, my stylist, evidently hadn't deemed this evening's appearance worthy of her personal attentions – and terrified as I hadn't been since my reaping. I was greeted at the door by an Avox dressed all in black, who ushered me into an entrance hall done in pale marble.

The whole house was pale, I learned, and all the Avox servants were dressed in contrasting black. I, on the other hand, matched the color scheme perfectly, and I wondered whether that had been accident or intention on the part of my prep team.

"Memorie Renwick, how delightful." I turned to face the sweeping staircase that linked the second floor with the open main level. The Head Gamemaker, whose face I only recognized from television broadcasts, wore a blood-red suit, the first color I had seen since entering his home, and a cold smile.

"You can't imagine how long I have waited for the honor of meeting you in person," he continued, moving to my side. For reasons my petrified mind couldn't fathom, he reminded me of the snake mutt from the arena, the one whose poison, diluted, had still flooded my veins with overwhelming, primal fear. It was the eyes, I finally decided. Gallegos had the same black, soulless eyes as the snake, the same malevolent focus.

"I wanted you fresh from the arena, _my_ arena, but Snow insisted on rehabilitating you properly first. And then he gave you to that idiot Monogram, and I nearly…" He trailed off, drawing a sharp breath. The air from his lungs, when he exhaled into my face, smelled like hot metal. "No matter. It will be better this way," he went on, leaning down to press his cheek against my hair. I knew I was shivering, but I couldn't make myself stop.

"This way, you're a blank slate. A fresh canvas. I can break you myself, without any of the wounds from your past to hinder me. And do you know what the best part is?" he asked, tilting my chin up with gentle fingers so that I was forced to meet his dead eyes. "I'm not allowed to kill you. Even if I wanted to, which I don't. Your suffering will be dreadful, all the worse for knowing that it will never end."

He grasped my elbow and dragged me up the stairs, into a room that he'd clearly prepared for just this purpose. I wondered when he'd started accumulating torture devices. His collection was impressive, but then, he'd had more than a month – _thirty-three days since she died; no, don't think about it _– to decide how best to hurt me.

I managed to glare at him as he unzipped my dress, helping me almost courteously out of my clothes. He spun me to face the wall, securing me there with restraints around my wrists and ankles. "This is how it will start," he whispered, breath hot against my ear. "One lash for each thing you did to ruin my Quarter Quell."

At first, I counted them.

_One._ "For being chosen by your district, idiot girl. If I could punish them for sending you into my arena, I would."

_Two. _"For being a cripple."

_Three. _"For daring to seek sympathy here, in the Capitol, during your interview." _I didn't,_ I wanted to say. _I joked with Tesla to avoid breaking down and crying on the stage in front of all of Panem. If it earned me sympathy, that was not my intent._

The pain was overwhelming, so much so that the full impact of the blows hadn't hit me yet. I retreated to the little place in the back of my mind where I hadn't gone in years, not since the accident, and hid from the world. When I resurfaced, unable to ignore the pain any longer, I'd lost count of the lashes.

"For seducing that stupid Career." _I didn't _seduce_ her. You had access to all the cameras, you should know that. _And, with shattering clarity, I thought, _Neera wasn't stupid. She outsmarted all of you._

Pure fury exploded through me, banishing the agony of the whip for one glorious second. _Thirty-three days. Neera died so I could live. You can't destroy me._

Suddenly, I was calm. This was how I'd felt on the first day of the Games, standing on my platform by the Cornucopia and watching the countdown. I was afraid and in pain, but no one, least of all this Capitol scum, deserved to see me break.

So when Troy Gallegos swung the whip again, saying, "For surviving the snake," I laughed. He went still behind me, and if my back hadn't hurt so much, I'd have turned to look at him.

"You think this is funny, bitch?" he hissed. "Let's see how you like _this_."

When I cracked my eyes open and saw pure, unbroken white, I screamed. I couldn't help it.

I only stopped when I heard voices above me, filtering down as though from a great distance. _Voices. More than one. It's not…him. _

I wasn't in pain, which scared me. My leg hadn't hurt either, right after the machine crushed it, because the nerves were ruined along with the muscles and bones. Struggling, I tried to sit up, but then realized I was secured, facedown, to a bed.

"Why on earth is she screaming?" a Capitol-accented voice asked. "Doesn't she know she's safe now? How ungrateful!" I suspected this was the first time in history anyone had been happy to hear Theta Honeyman's voice.

"She doesn't know where she is, yet," replied another person, a man. I forced myself not to scream a second time. He sounded nothing like Troy Gallegos. Nothing.

"Renwick?" a third voice asked, closer than the other two. I immediately wanted to thank whoever it belonged to for talking _to_ me, not _about_ me, now that it was clear I was awake. "You're safe, okay?" the person continued. "You're in a hospital in the Capitol, but we kicked the doctors out after they gave you the morphling. It's just us, now. Uh, Varius, Allison and Theta," the person added after a brief pause, apparently remembering I couldn't see anything but the sheets.

"Allison?" My voice was a pitiful thing, a croak. _That's what you get for screaming,_ I rebuked myself silently.

"Yeah, sweetheart, it's me," she said. "Listen, Gallegos really did a number on you, but it's nothing the doctors can't fix. I'm so sorry. I should've realized he'd be angry with you. I shouldn't have let you go to that bastard."

"You couldn't have done anything about it even if you'd known," said Varius, and I thought he was speaking to Allison, not me. "You know how this works." He sounded tired.

"But why?" asked Theta, her voice a high-pitched wail. "Why would the Head Gamemaker do this to her? What happened?" She started to sob, gasping and hiccoughing like a child.

"Get her out of here," Allison snapped, and I heard footsteps, then the sound of a door opening and closing.

"I'm sorry about that, too," Allison said, once silence had fallen. "She's been hysterical ever since they brought you in last night. It got a little better once Varius was here to deal with her, but…"

"What's wrong with me?" I interrupted. "I can't feel anything."

"That's the morphling. It's the second time they've given it to you since you got here, but I made sure they didn't give you an overdose." I heard her draw a deep breath. "You were whipped, beaten and raped, in that order. You have three broken ribs, severe lacerations on your back from neck to hips, and possible head trauma."

"I remember," I said simply.

"I'm going to kill him." For an instant, Allison sounded exactly like Neera.

"I don't doubt you could," I told her, my voice slightly muffled by the bedsheets. "But then the president would have you executed, so it's not worth it."

"Neera would do it anyway."

"I'm tired of having dead friends," I finally snapped. "Neera died for me, the downside of which is that she's not here to help me now. Even if you killed Gallegos, someone just as bad would probably take his place, and you wouldn't be around to deal with the aftermath."

I heard a thump by the right side of my bed, and twisted my neck far enough to dangle my head over the edge. Allison was sitting on the floor – _the _white_ floor, but it's linoleum, not marble _– with her face in her hands. Her hair was tangled and she was wearing the torn, dirty remains of a pale green dress. I didn't think she'd gotten any sleep.

"I was always Varius' little failure." Allison's voice was soft and bitter. "I only got an eight in training, did you know that? Every single Career that year scored higher than me. I won because I got lucky, not because I deserved it."

"But you won. That's what matters," I said. She looked up, startled at the change in my voice.

"You shouldn't move like that," she told me. "You'll reopen the scabs on your back."

"I don't care," I huffed. She was being ridiculous. Who cared what her training score had been? That was years ago! "And I remember enough of your Games to know that you won because you were smart, not because you were lucky, so don't give me that crap."

"God, I can't handle this right now," Allison said, pushing herself to her feet. "I'm getting Varius. See you later." As she turned to leave, I noticed her feet were bare.

"Allison said you were being difficult, Renwick." I hadn't heard Varius enter the room, and I unwisely pushed myself up on my elbows to look at him. Instantly, he shoved me back down, and I felt his calloused palm rasp against the bandages on my back.

"Oh, did that hurt?" he asked. I nodded. "Good. You're not supposed to be moving around. Maybe you'll remember next time. I looked at your charts," he went on. "You'll probably be out of here in two days or so, but the doctors say no physical strain for at least three weeks."

I laughed hoarsely. "I think I can manage that."

"When you've been discharged from the hospital, you're going to District Two with Allison. Or with me, if she's still throwing her little tantrum by then."

"What? Why? I want to go home," I said, wishing I sounded less like a whiny child.

Varius crouched beside my bed so he could look me in the eye. "I know you fancy yourself quite the little rebel, Renwick," he whispered, his lips barely moving. "That won't do anyone any good unless you stay alive long enough to actually accomplish something. The Capitol has been doing this," he gestured to my wounds, "to its victors for years. That's twenty-three potential allies out there. You're coming home with us so we can make sure you don't do anything stupid before you have backup."

I'm sure I looked extremely undignified trying to scrape my jaw off the floor; I was that shocked. "The other victors will help us? Help us do what? How can we –" Varius put his hand over my mouth to stifle the torrent of questions. It hurt more than it should have, and I tried to remember if Gallegos had hit me in the face.

"Not here," Varius hissed. "We'll discuss this when we get home." District Two. Right.

"I'm not going to your district," I informed him, making my tone as dignified as I could manage while lying facedown in a hospital bed. "I have important things to do in District Three. If you and Allison want to see me, you can come visit."

"Excellent. I was beginning to think Gallegos had broken you," Varius said, sounding more cheerful than I'd anticipated in the face of my refusal.

"No," I replied. "Almost, but no." The details came flooding back, the specifics behind that _almost_ that made tears spring to my eyes. "Varius, I didn't even fight back," I said in a small voice.

He was quiet for so long I didn't think he intended to answer. Then he said, "Do you remember what I told you when you woke up after the arena? How you can handle life after the Games in a way Neera wouldn't have been able to?"

"Yes," I whispered. "Looks like you were wrong, huh? All it took was one guy with a grudge. I thought I was going to go insane. Some rebel."

"Neera would have gone insane," Varius told me. "Oh, not from the pain," he said, seeing my dubious expression. "From the fact that she was helpless. When we teach our tributes to do things like give themselves stitches without anesthetic–" that was something Neera had done in the arena "–we're also stripping them of all the things they need to survive in the Capitol.

"In your place, Neera would have either killed Gallegos outright, and then been killed by Snow's Peacekeepers, or she would have fallen apart over the fact that she had the physical ability to end her torture, and yet had to submit anyway." It was eerie, how closely his words mirrored what I'd just said to Allison.

"Why does Allison think she didn't deserve to win the Games?" I asked, mainly because I was afraid Varius would leave if we stopped talking, and I wasn't ready to be alone.

"Is that why she was upset?" Varius sounded annoyed. "She should know better than to discuss that with an outsider. Allison only got an eight from the Gamemakers, did she tell you that?"

"Yes, but why does it matter?" I asked. "I got a one, and I'm alive. Neera got an eleven, and she's dead. One would think it's the dead-versus-alive conundrum that's important, not the stupid number."

"You aren't a Career. There have been five victors from District Two, two before me and two after. None got below a nine, and even that was considered low." Varius spat the word _nine_ with a distaste most others reserved for obscenities. "Allison won, yes, but she is least among the surviving victors from our district."

"She's a person, not a number. So am I. So was Neera," I retorted. "It's easy for you to judge people by the scores they received when you got a twelve. We aren't in the arena anymore. You said it yourself: Neera would die or go crazy in the Capitol. Allison's managed not to, and that's its own victory."

Varius sighed again – obviously, dealing with me was quite exhausting. "We do things the way we do so we can keep our kids alive. We've had five victors. This year should've made six. How many have you had? Two, and you are a fluke. We both know it."

I think he'd expected that to upset me. "You're absolutely right," I said. "But we're not going to change anything by continuing to think the same way we have for twenty-five years. As long as there are Careers and outliers, as long as people are numbers to you, everything stays the same."

"You could be right," Varius said. He stood up quickly, brushing invisible dust off the front of his pants. "I'm going to get Allison. I'm sure she's cooled off by now. And if she hasn't, Theta would be happy to sit with you." He left the room as though pursued. I seemed to be having that effect on people today.


	4. Dinner and Dissension

I shuffled to the kitchen in search of breakfast and found Allison, Varius and Theta sitting around my dining room table.

"How're you feeling?" Allison didn't bother to turn around before she spoke, but I'd gotten used to the District Two victors' supernatural hearing over the last two weeks, and managed to take it in stride.

"Much better than yesterday," I replied, pulling out the fourth chair and sitting down across from Varius. "I think my ribs are healing well, and my back only bled a little in the shower this morning. Can I get anything for you?" I asked, feeling like a terrible hostess. "Breakfast? I can cook something, if you like."

"Oh, don't worry about us, dear," Theta said with a smile, reaching out to rest a purple-gloved hand on my knee. "Varius already cooked." She held up her plate, which I saw contained eggs, toast and some kind of meat, as evidence of that unlikely claim.

"Oh. Well, thank you," I said. "I wasn't aware you could cook, Varius."

"Never trusted Capitol food," Varius grunted, speaking around a mouthful of toast. "Harder for them to slip me something if I make my own. Sorry." That last was aimed at Theta, but I wasn't sure if the apology was for his lack of table manners or impugning the Capitol's honor.

"Four is coming over for dinner, by the way," Allison said, also talking with her mouth full. Theta, who, I noticed, had spared Varius, glared at the younger woman.

"Who from Four?" I asked, confused.

"All the victors. Barra, Fetch, Mags and Skiff. They'll be here at six."

"And you're sure they'll be open to the matters we want to discuss?" I seriously doubted my apartment was wired, but still, saying _plotting against the Capitol_ aloud didn't seem prudent.

I'd addressed the question to Allison, but it was Varius who answered. "They're more likely to listen than anyone else. We're not on good terms with One at the moment. The outliers – er, the other districts–" Varius amended, catching my disapproving stare, " –the other districts won't listen to Careers until we can prove our good intentions."

"Are you sure we should be talking about this in front of her?" Allison asked, hooking her thumb in Theta's direction.

Theta opened her mouth – she was wearing yellow lipstick, of all things – to answer, but Varius cut in first. "She knows better than to gossip about this. After all, she could easily be implicated as part of the conspiracy if our activities became known to the government." Varius gave Theta a pointed look, in case she'd somehow missed the veiled threat. Although, coming from Varius, it was less of a threat and more like normal conversation, as I was starting to realize.

"Yes, what kind of imbecile do you take me for?" Theta asked, glaring at Allison. "I'm hardly going to say anything that would cause trouble for Varius or my victor." She gave Varius a smile so soppy that Allison gagged dramatically, shooting me a long-suffering look.

"What about the rest of your district's victors?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation back to…well, _plotting against the Capitol_. "How can we propose rebellion to District Four if we don't even have full support from our own districts?"

"Well, Vega is dead. She was our second victor, three years before me," Varius said. "Died of some kind of slow-acting brain injury sustained during her Games. Anyway, we don't need to worry about getting her support. The other two, Claudius and Felix, are going to be more difficult. Claudius was my mentor, and he's one tough son of a bitch. And Felix…I'm not sure he's entirely sane. We'll deal with them once we figure out if this is even feasible."

As had become my habit in the past weeks, I spent the rest of the morning delivering food and medicine to families around the city. Allison accompanied me, though I suspected it was more to escape Theta and Varius than because she'd developed a taste for altruism overnight.

"Are they all like this?" Allison asked as a girl in her early teens closed the door to her apartment behind us.

"Like what?"

"All the families. All the people here – are they all so poor?" There was an odd note to Allison's voice, one I struggled to label as something other than envy, because that made no sense.

"More or less," I replied. "The mayor's family has enough money to live in an actual house, not in the apartment complex, and so do a few of the factory managers. Lots of the people on Market Street live above their shops, but I'm not sure if that's better or worse than the apartments."

"But there are so many children," Allison said, with something resembling awe. "If the families don't have money, why don't they send their children to be trained? At least then they'd get enough tesserae to feed their families."

Her matter-of-fact tone sent a chill down my spine. "That's not how we do things here," I informed her. "None of our children are trained. No one from our district volunteers for the Games. And no family would give up one of their children for a bit of extra food, not even if they were starving." _No, they have to send their children to work in the factories instead, never mind the high casualty rate among those under the age of sixteen. _

Allison looked at the ground dejectedly, scuffing the toe of her boot in the dirt. "Oh," she said.

I looked at her. "Is that how you ended up as a tribute?" I asked. "Your parents gave you up for tesserae?"

"It's not like they had a choice. My father and brother both work in the quarries, but they don't make enough money to feed four of us. Or they didn't – it was better after I was accepted for training, and they don't lack for anything now that I'm a victor, of course." She gazed back at me, uncharacteristically serious. "I don't blame them, so don't give me that look, Renwick."

"Okay, sorry," I said, and started walking again, this time in the direction of the daycare. My latest shipment from the Capitol had contained an assortment of simple toys I thought would make the work of whoever had taken my place supervising the younger kids much more bearable. "Please understand, I'm not judging your parents or your district's customs, I just need to know how the districts differ before I can hope to get anyone out from under the Capitol's power."

"I know. God, Renwick, lighten up," Allison said, her smirk returning, because apparently it was on an automatic timer whose five minutes of solemnity were up. "I'm not sure what crazy plan you have up your sleeve, but I'm on your team, remember?"

By the time the victors from Four showed up, I'd had time to assemble a fairly decent meal. Surprisingly, Theta had helped willingly, and if she lacked even basic knowledge – such as the fact that milk came in a carton from the refrigerator, not a glass delivered by a hole in the wall – she was as good with a spoon as the next person. Varius, who could probably cook better than me, stayed unhelpfully in his room, of course.

Allison, demonstrating a disconcerting hyperawareness of her surroundings for the hundredth time in the last two weeks, called, "Hey, they're here, but they probably don't know how to work the buzzer, so I'll go down and let them in," and trotted down the stairs. Theta immediately pulled a compact from some hidden pocket and began examining her hair and makeup. I was a little surprised she was in such a flutter over a dinner with people who weren't from the Capitol, but then, I'd been misjudging lots of people lately.

The elevator chimed from the main room, and I hurried to greet my guests, Theta a neon-colored shadow at my side. Varius appeared a second later, his face set in a series of grim lines that made me shiver, briefly seeing him as he'd been fifteen years ago, a Career in his prime.

Then the double doors slid open and my apartment received an inundation of chattering women. There was one man, I saw – that would be Fetch, Four's only male victor – standing in the back corner of the elevator with a hunted expression on his face. Allison broke off her conversation with the youngest of the women to make introductions.

"This is Memorie, of course, and you already know Varius. Oh, and this is Theta Honeyman, District Three's escort," Allison added, though how she could make a person dressed in glaring yellow and electric blue seem like an afterthought, I wasn't sure.

"This is Skiff–" that was the woman she'd been speaking with, "–and this is Fetch, Mags and Barra," she finished, gesturing by turns to the man, a short, dark-haired woman with a wide smile, and an older woman whose face was brown from time spent in the sun.

"Welcome to District Three," I said, smiling brightly to hide my sudden nervousness. "Thank you for coming. Would you care for some dinner?"

Whatever things were like in District Four, they weren't so good that my guests weren't hungry. I served the small, coarse rolls that were a signature of my district, since they could be made using grain from our rations and a few other simple ingredients, followed by pork with gravy and peas, all luxuries I hadn't been able to afford before I became a victor.

Between bites, we talked rebellion.

"So, Memorie, Varius tells me you have some grand scheme to overthrow the Capitol," said Barra, gesturing with her fork. She kept her voice low enough that I had to lean closer to hear, and I was glad for her caution.

"There's nothing grand about it at this point," I replied, laughing. "I really don't know what I'm trying to accomplish, or if I can even accomplish anything. All I know is that a Career died saving me, and if she managed to defy the Capitol, so can I. And who better to help me than other Careers?"

"I don't think I count as a Career," Barra said musingly. "No one started training kids for the Games until a couple of years after me, I think. I certainly didn't volunteer for the Games."

"Really?" I asked. I supposed that made sense; no one would have been prepared for the first Hunger Games, and it had probably taken several years to establish a system. "Which year were you?"

"I won the fourth Games," Barra told me, and I could make out undercurrents of both pride and sadness in her voice. "That was one year after Claudius from Two, if I recall correctly. Where is he, by the way? I was sure he'd be the brawn behind this operation," she said, shooting a glance at Varius.

"I didn't want to bring him in until I was sure he wouldn't go berserk on us," he answered. "You know how much of a traditionalist Claudius is, never mind that the so-called traditions are ones he made up himself."

The woman named Mags laughed. Looking at her across the table, I decided her smile, full of even, white teeth and framed by rosy lips, was her best feature. Until she smiled or laughed, she was fairly unremarkable: short, with thick, dark hair and a delicate bone structure. "That's one way of putting it," she said. "I would've called him a narrow-minded bastard, myself, but then, he wasn't my mentor."

"He's not all that bad, as long as you do what he tells you," Allison interjected, though she was smiling too.

"Yes, well, that's my point. We aren't in a position to follow his orders at the moment, and we don't have a leadership structure at all, much less one that would hold up to Claudius' bullying," Varius said. He was beginning to sound exasperated, so I decided it was time to guide the conversation back to its original track.

"Varius raises a good point," I said, raising my voice slightly to be heard over the assorted side conversations Varius and Barra's tangent had sparked. "One of the main purposes of this meeting is to organize ourselves. Right now, we're leaderless and we have no clear goal. Before we try to decide on a plan of action, we need to remedy that."

"You're the leader, obviously," Theta spoke up, and I blinked, having forgotten she was there at all. "This was your idea, Memorie, and it wouldn't be fair for someone else to be punished for treason when you started it." That was one way to think of it, I supposed, though I sincerely hoped it would never come to that.

"She's the newest victor," said Fetch, his gravelly voice providing an interesting counterpoint to Theta's Capitol-accented trill. "She doesn't know how things work in the Capitol – hell, she doesn't really know how things work in the arena – and no one's going to listen to her. No offense," he added, giving me an apologetic half-smile.

"No, you're right, Fetch," I replied, forestalling whatever Theta had been opening her mouth to say. "For now, I think Varius and Barra should lead us, since they're the oldest victors from their respective districts." Then I paused, swallowing hard so my voice wouldn't shake when I spoke again. "And in the event that our group is discovered, everyone should tell the Capitol the truth. I started this. If they want to punish someone for inciting rebellion – not that we're close to managing anything of the sort – it will be me."

This time, Allison opened her mouth to protest, but I raised a hand and she subsided. "Is everyone in favor of having Varius and Barra as our leaders for the moment?" I was met with a chorus of affirmatives, which I had expected. "Good. Now, what about our objectives? We need to start small. We're not going to be able to abolish the Games or overthrow the government. There's just no way, not with how things stand at present."

"What's the point of this, then?" asked the youngest victor from Four, the one Allison had been laughing with earlier. _Skiff_, I remembered. I judged her to be in her mid-twenties, and was struck again by how young I was compared to the rest of the group. _Will they even listen to me?_ I wondered, struck belatedly by a rush of anxiety.

I forced myself to calm down, composing my face until I knew I looked cool and emotionless. Most of these people had been my age when they won their Games, so they should know better than to discount my intelligence based on age alone. "I'm not saying we won't be able to achieve _anything_, Skiff, just that we need to start with something we can control.

"The best thing we can do right now is get the other victors – all of them, not just our districts – on our side. The Capitol depends on dissent between the districts; that's how this government maintains its power," I began, feeling gratified when the others didn't try to interrupt. "Victors are the only people who can travel between districts, so we're the ones who have to overcome our differences and set an example for everyone else."

"How are you going to get the others to talk to us?" Varius asked, after pausing for a second to make sure I was finished speaking. "Our kids have killed too many of their kids for them to give us the time of day, much less work with us."

Again, I took a deep breath. "I didn't kill anyone," I said quietly. I was banking on this fact, possibly the greatest gift Neera had given me, to grant me immunity among the other victors. If it didn't work…well, I'd figure out what to do if it came to that. "I know that labels me as weak to the Career districts, but it's better people deride me for weakness than hate me for killing someone they loved."

Silence fell. I hoped that meant my words were sinking in, not that my compatriots were covertly drawing straws to see who would get to tell me that I was a blithering idiot.

Finally, Mags spoke up. "Memorie might have the right idea," she said slowly. "She's the only victor – ever – who hasn't killed anyone. Even I killed the girl from Eight in my year." I made a mental note to watch Mags' Games; I wanted to see how she'd won. She was even smaller than me, although she'd had full use of all her limbs in the arena, of course. Still, she would've had to be pretty smart to outlive all the bigger, stronger tributes.

"It'll take time, but I think I can talk the others around," Varius said, meaning, I assumed, the remaining victors from his district. "And your strategy might work on the outliers. I'm not sure about One, though."

"Are you kidding?" Allison asked. "Memorie's easily as pretty as their tributes, and she has perfect manners, and that's all they care about. They'll listen to her." Skiff, Mags and Barra all laughed and nodded, agreeing.

Theta leaned forward in her chair, and the laughter quieted gradually. "When you talk to the victors from District One, let me go with you," she said. "More than anything else, that district wants to be like the Capitol. Have you seen the way they dress? They're always trying – and failing, I might add – to imitate our fashions." I frowned at her, and she took my hint and got to the point. "Anyway, I think they might be more likely to listen to you if you have the support of someone from the Capitol."

"That sound reasonable," I said, impressed in spite of myself. Whatever character flaws my escort possessed – I could list vanity, shallowness and naïveté just off the top of my head – she was smarter than I'd thought. "If all of you are correct, that leaves the question of how to get the –" I cut myself off sharply; I'd almost said "outliers," because I was so used to hearing it from Varius and Allison, "– the other districts to trust us."

"Get a victor for Twelve." That was Fetch, who had lapsed into silence so complete I'd been ignoring him for the past several minutes.

"Pardon?" I asked.

"You heard me. District Twelve is the only one without a single victor in the history of the Games. If you can manipulate things so they win, it'll prove to the other districts that you're serious about helping everyone, and this isn't just some Career plot."

"That's stupid," Allison said bluntly. Fetch lifted an eyebrow, but didn't rise to the bait. "If she makes it so Twelve wins, that means killing off the tributes from all the districts we're trying to convince to trust us."

"It's still better than another Career victory," I replied. "In their eyes, I mean," I added quickly, avoiding a knife-sharp glare from Varius. "Worst case scenario, we don't gain any ground with the other districts, but we explain to the new victor that we saved his or her life, so we gain one ally anyway."

"But that means waiting for the next Games!" Skiff blurted. "That's almost ten months away!" I was beginning to see a pattern, I thought.

"Impatience is the surest way to get killed," I told her. "This isn't like the arena. This is politics. We need to move slowly and deliberately, or we _will_ be noticed and punished by the Capitol."

"Memorie's right, unfortunately," said Barra, eyeing Skiff warningly. "I don't like waiting any more than you do, but it's better than not being able to do anything at all, ever. Besides, we can approach some of the other districts in the meantime. I'll talk to Hinge. He was the second victor, two before me," Barra informed me. "We've been friends for years, and he's still lucid some of the time."

"He's from District Six," Varius added, answering the question I was poised to ask. "Morphling addict." He shook his head. "He wasn't a bad guy, before."

District Six produced means of transportation, I knew. All the small automotive parts we stamped out in the factories were shipped to Six and assembled into cars for Capitol citizens and trucks for Peacekeepers. Six maintained the railroads, too.

"That's a good start," I said. "You should all do that – talk to any friends you have among the victors, I mean."

"But don't talk to anyone who'll run and tell Snow," Varius cautioned. I hadn't added that particular admonition myself because I thought it was obvious, but there was no harm in having it stated explicitly. "That might rule out the victors from One," he said, turning to look at me.

I nodded, acknowledging the possibility, but Mags said, "No, I don't think so. I spent a lot of time with Jet in the control room this year, and he's human enough. He wouldn't send any sponsor gifts to Glint after Glint tortured that boy, even though there was money left over."

_Who is Jet? Boy or girl? What year?_ If today's meeting had succeeded in anything, it was to impress upon me the full extent of my ignorance. To give this plan any hope of success, I needed to do some serious studying. In the back of my head, that tiny, persistent voice chanted, _Don't think about her, don't think about her, don't think about her._


	5. On Tour

My apartment – the one in the Capitol – was bustling with people. All three members of my prep team hovered around me, orbiting like oddly colored moons as they put the final touches on my hair and makeup. I'd been given a full body polish earlier this morning, so the lone scar on my cheek and the many on my back were gone as if they had never existed.

That, it transpired, was because Serena had designed a backless white dress for the first day of my Victory Tour. I'd taken one look at it and objected so vociferously to the color that Serena had finally produced what was to have been my Day Two dress before storming off, probably to sulk. I wore white when Head Gamemaker Gallegos was paying for my time. It was the color of suffering and humiliation and rage, and I refused to wear it when I didn't have to.

Gallegos wasn't allowed to have me nearly as often as he wanted, or I would've been dead by now. Since the first visit, I'd been sent to his mansion twice, and the second two times were a repeat of the first. The one positive to the situation with the Head Gamemaker – if you could think of it as such; when I'd told Allison I did, she told me I was sick – was that I spent the time between our sessions recovering, so no one else had purchased me in the months between leaving the arena and beginning my tour.

At the moment, Allison was lounging on the couch in my living room, cracking off-color jokes as Luri zipped me into my replacement dress. _Two hundred and fifteen days_, I thought, a picture of Neera's face – serious, of course; I only remembered her smiling twice – flaring to life in my mind.

I hung onto the image of Neera like it was a lifeline, but forced myself to consider the converse of the number in my head. _One hundred and fifty days until the Games begin again and I can do something concrete to honor her sacrifice. _

Just then, the door swung open, admitting a flustered-looking Theta Honeyman. Her hair was lime green now, and her dress, I noticed with muted horror, was the same shade of pale pink as the one I was wearing. I was glad Serena had already left, because I was sure she'd have thrown an absolute fit.

"Aren't you ready yet, dear?" Theta asked, hands fluttering around my face as she straightened the neck of my dress and tucked a lock of hair back into place. "I've just been to see Varius –"

"Oh, that explains why your hair looks like a radioactive rat's nest," Allison interrupted, smirking.

Theta and I shot her identical glares, and she subsided. "As I was saying," Theta continued superciliously, "Varius informed me that he will not be accompanying us to District and Twelve, but will meet us when we get to Nine in three days. Also, our train leaves in thirty minutes, and if you think I'm willing to adapt my schedule because you two are running late, you are sorely mistaken." With that, Theta spun on her heel and swept back out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

"Goodness, I wonder what's got her so upset," I said to Allison.

"Oh, she's probably just mad that Varius skipped out on her," she replied. "It's actually a good sign, though – it means he's getting through to either Felix or Claudius and wants to stick around to convince him." She paused. "On second thought, it has to be Felix."

"Why?" I asked.

"Trust me, I know Claudius," Allison replied.

I hadn't been idle in the months before my Victory Tour, so, in a way, I thought I knew Claudius too. At least, I knew something of Claudius as he'd been at age fifteen, because I'd watched the video recording of his Games. Claudius at thirty-seven was probably much more stubborn and set in his ways, if I could judge by what I'd heard from the other victors.

"Well, either way, that's progress," I said.

She mumbled something noncommittal and focused her attention on the television, which was currently showing clips from my interviews interspersed with footage from the Quell. _No, don't watch, don't think about it, _said the little voice in my head.

I turned my back, almost bowling over my entire prep team as they headed for the door, beauty equipment in tow. "Be careful, dear," Luri admonished, lifting a tray of sharp-looking silver implements out of my path. "We're going to the train now. Make sure you're not late."

"We'd better leave, too," Allison said a few minutes later, making the TV screen go dark with the push of a button. "We have to put up with that psychotic harpy even if Varius managed to escape for a few days, and we'll never hear the end of it if we're late."

The trip from the Capitol to District Twelve took the better part of a day, and I spent the time reviewing tapes of the Games with Allison. When I'd first revealed to my District Two allies that I'd never seen the Games from before I was born and I barely remembered most of those I _had_ seen because I'd been too busy trying to comfort a room full of sobbing children without breaking into tears myself, they hadn't believed me. Apparently, one of the first things trainees did in their district was analyze the old Games with an instructor.

"How else are the kids going to know what keeps you alive and what gets you killed?" Allison had asked. "Better to learn from the mistakes of others than to make a very final, very fatal mistake of your own."

So I'd watched all twenty-four Hunger Games, and while I'd expected each to seem more horrible than the last, the reality was much worse. Each Games was distinct, unique. Once I'd seen them, I would never confuse one with another. I knew each victor's name as well as my own – as well as Neera's – because I'd seen each one scheme and struggle and kill.

Today, we started at the beginning. Chard Samos, the first victor, was from District Eleven. We'd be visiting Eleven, the agricultural district, in two days, and I hoped to see Chard there. I still hadn't met any victors besides the Careers, and I wanted to.

"Ugh, there she goes," Allison groaned, making a rude gesture at the television. "Didn't cover her blind spot. Rookie mistake." The dying girl on the screen gurgled for a few moments before her cannon fired. We were forty minutes into the recording, and the female tribute from District Two had just become the thirteenth casualty of the Hunger Games, to the eternal shame, apparently, of all Two's living victors and trainees.

I wiped tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand and made a note (_Cover your blind spot?_) in the notebook I used when watching the Games. If nothing else, at least I would have tips to give my tributes in the future. I'd never had anyone else around when I watched the tapes, and I was hoping Allison's commentary would continue to be of assistance.

"Sorry," Allison said, getting up from her chair and sitting beside me on the couch. "I keep forgetting you didn't grow up with this stuff." She slung an arm around my shoulders. "Come on, you've seen this one already. Let's watch the tenth Games."

"I've seen all of them already, excluding mine, of course. Besides, I'm not going to learn anything useful from Varius' Games. No one from Three is going to avoid weapons on purpose."

"You did." Allison was looking at me with a strange gleam in her eyes.

"I wasn't trying to survive. Besides, I took the knife when Neera offered it to me." _She's dead. Don't think about it right now._

"You're crying. Your prep team is going to be upset if you ruin your makeup," Allison said flatly.

"Neera's dead," I sobbed, unable to fight the gut-wrenching pain any longer. "All those kids are dead, and I'm alive, and I just can't take it right now."

With a tenderness I hadn't known she possessed – _You should have expected it; Neera was like that too _– Allison embraced me, rocking me back and forth like a restless child. "Shh, it's going to be okay," she whispered. "We don't have to watch this anymore, okay? See, I'm turning it off. Come on, I'll take you back to your compartment. You should get some rest."

I allowed her to lift me from the couch and carry me bodily to my bed. At least this didn't remind me of Neera; Allison was smaller and overall differently shaped, and she talked too much to be Neera. Allison set me gently on the bed and left, sliding the door shut behind her.

When I woke up, the train was rolling to a stop and the light streaming through the windows was the weak blue-orange of twilight. I leaped out of bed and opened the wardrobe, examining my reflection critically. My hair was a mess, but my makeup and dress hadn't been disturbed by my little emotional disaster, thank goodness. I attempted to salvage my hair, tucking stray tendrils into the elaborate bun on the back of my head until you could almost believe the remaining messiness was intentional.

Allison was waiting for me in the corridor, propped against the wall by my door in a boneless slump that made me wonder how long she'd been there. "No nightmares?" she asked.

"None. I guess my brain decided watching the Games again was enough blood and fear for one day." The only way she could know I hadn't had nightmares was if she'd stayed outside my room for the duration of my unscheduled nap, because then she'd know I hadn't cried out the way I usually did when I had a bad dream.

"Listen, about earlier –" Allison began, but I cut her off.

"I'm fine. It's fine. I overreacted. The stress of the tour added to the tapes was more than I could handle right then, that's all," I said, my words tripping over each other in my haste to reassure her. More than anything, I was afraid I'd lose all the ground I'd gained with the Careers by showing such open weakness in front of Allison. _At least it wasn't Varius. _

"Okay," Allison replied, not sounding completely convinced. "Anyway, we're here. I'm going to stay on the train during the ceremony, unless you have any objections. Theta said it might look like we were manipulating you if there was one of us with you all the time.

If by "us," she meant the Careers, I'd unknowingly slighted Theta again. My escort continually proved she had a head for this kind of deception. I needed to stop doubting her.

As if my thoughts had summoned her, Theta came into view, clicking down the corridor in shiny blue heels. "Good, you're awake," she said, sounding marginally less annoyed than she'd been back in the Capitol. "Heavens, what have you done to your hair? Well, no matter. We've arrived in District Twelve, and your first appearance is in ten minutes."

I spent those minutes being fussed over by my prep team – apparently my makeup hadn't emerged as unscathed as I'd thought – and listening to Theta's endless list of things I should and shouldn't say during my speech. It was at moments like this that I most missed Flux. His presence would've been a nice source of moral support, if nothing else.

I stepped down from the train and onto a wooden platform that looked as if it had been hastily constructed for this occasion. District Twelve was already assembled, men, women and children standing in silent ranks facing the stage. None of them looked particularly pleased to see me, but that was no surprise. To them, I was one more in a long line of victorious enemies.

Theta stepped up to the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen of District Twelve, please welcome Memorie Renwick, victor of the first Quarter Quell!" That drew a scattered round of applause, but I noticed that none of the people's faces changed, whether to shift into joy or anger. They were emotionless, beaten. Starving.

_Yes, I made the right decision. Twelve needs a victor._

I was glad I'd become good at concealing my emotions, because it took real effort to switch from happiness at the prospect of giving Twelve a victor to the appropriate expression of sadness for my speech. It wasn't anything elaborate, just thanking the district for its hospitality and honoring Twelve's tributes from the Quell. At the end, the crowd applauded unenthusiastically and the mayor presented me with a bouquet of limp flowers.

After the ceremony, Theta congratulated me on my elocution – maybe I could forgive myself for underestimating her mental acuity on occasion – and Allison herded me behind the bulletproof glass of the train, despite the fact that no one had shown the slightest bit of animosity toward me. _Career instinct never dies,_ I thought, then winced. _Bad choice of words._

We arrived in District Eleven late in the evening, but the ceremony there wouldn't take place until morning. Theta, unsurprisingly, elected to remain in the comfort of her train compartment for the night, but Allison and I disembarked and went in search of Chard.

"This district is pretty spread out, but Victor's Village is in town, from what I remember," she told me, guiding me along a path that ran between to orchards. In the dark, I couldn't see what kind of fruit was growing, but I could smell the rich perfume of the flowers. Now there was something we didn't have in District Three.

"Okay, here we go," Allison said, sounding relieved. "I knew my sense of direction couldn't have abandoned me completely." She gestured to a group of lights, and I guessed that, like in my district, Victor's Village was one of the few places that received a constant flow of electricity.

"Which one is his?" I asked. There were two houses with lights on.

"Who knows?" she replied, waving a hand. "Let's just try the first one, and if it's not Chard, we'll know the second one is." She didn't sound terribly worried, but I thought maybe she should be. Burr, the other victor from Eleven, had won the Games the year after Allison, and from what I recalled, he had many reasons to hate all Careers, past and present. And, as I was starting to see, there was really no such thing as an ex-Career. It was kind of a for-life deal.

Before I could say as much, Allison was knocking on the door of the first house. A brief pause followed, during which I heard the deep bark of a dog echoing from somewhere inside. Then the door swung open, golden light spilling out onto our feet.

"Who's there?" It took a few seconds before I could see the source of the resonant voice, blinded as I was by the sudden brightness.

"Allison Romano and Memorie Renwick. Are you Chard?"

"Yes. Why are you here?" My eyes adjusted, and I took in the slim, slightly hunched man who stood in the doorway. He had dark skin and darker eyes, and he regarded us with a suspicious expression on his seamed face.

Allison had a habit of being abrupt at the worst times, so I pushed her aside to address the oldest victor of the Games myself. "We apologize for the lateness of the hour and the suddenness of the visit, but we'd like to talk to you, if you'll let us."

After a moment's hesitation, Chard stood aside. "Very well. Come in." We stepped over the threshold – Allison went first, of course, scanning the room carefully for God-knows-what before she allowed me inside – and I took in the house. It was furnished in dark, polished wood and dimly lit by wrought-iron stand lamps, so unlike either the desert or Gallegos' mansion that I relaxed at once.

"Miss Renwick, Miss Romano, welcome to my home," Chard said. "Please, have a seat." He suited his own words, lowering himself stiffly into one of the cloth-covered armchairs. Allison and I sat side-by-side on the couch opposite him. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Rebellion," Allison said succinctly. I shot her a glare, but the damage was done. Chard's eyebrows bunched together and he rubbed a long scar on his arm, looking pensive.

"A Career and a cripple – pardon, a former cripple – are asking me to join their rebellion. Don't worry, the house isn't bugged," he said, catching my worried expression. "If it was, I'd've been hauled in years ago. You're not the only ones who've tried to plot against the Capitol."

I could tell he was going to tell me that he'd tried and failed, or something equally unhelpful, so I nipped that in the bud. "It's not going to be fast or easy, I know that. It may not even be possible, but I'm going to try, and I need the other victors on my side."

"What's your big plan?" Chard asked. "Are you going to convince the tributes to jump Tesla Monogram during the next round of interviews? Or are you aiming for the big leagues? Do you want the victors to go after Snow next time we appear in public together?"

"Nothing that extreme," I replied. "I want to strengthen the bonds between districts. Create them, really. It needs to start with the victors, because we're the only ones who have any kind of repeated contact."

"If you think people from my district are going to be friends with people from One and Two, you are mistaken," Chard said coldly. "I'd say it's nothing personal, but it is."

I was prepared for that, with a rational, convincing response ready to go, but Allison got there first. "Your tributes killed our tributes plenty of times, too," she said. Her tone was surprisingly amicable, and I did a double take; I'd expected less of her. "I think Memorie's point is that as long as we continue to think along those lines, the Capitol can keep controlling us."

"Yes, that's it exactly," I affirmed, watching Chard's face carefully for any signs of emotion and finding none. "There is antagonism between districts, because we've done the unforgivable: we've killed each other's children. My first objective is to make the victors realize that we're all on the same side. The Capitol killed all those kids, no matter whose hand was on the actual weapon."

"And how do you intend to do that?" Chard asked. "If you put all the victors in one room together, we'll just have a repeat of the Games. Maybe they can even put it on TV for the whole nation to watch."

"I want District Twelve to have a victor," I said, ignoring the validity of Chard's most recent objection. "If we – all the victors, or as many as I can convince to help – can manipulate the next Games so one of the kids from Twelve wins, it'll convince everyone that we can change things."

"Do you expect twenty-three children to sacrifice themselves so a kid they've never met can survive? As part of a political cause they might not understand even if you could tell them about it, which you can't."

"Neera thought it was worth it," I said softly.

"Ah, your pet Career. Look how well that worked out for her," said Chard. The mild contempt in his voice, as if he didn't even consider Neera worthy of his complete scorn, made me lose what little tact I could still muster.

"Her attempt at rebellion was successful. That's more than any of us can say." _Don't you dare insult her._ "Besides, we won't tell the tributes about the plan. We have to do it ourselves, from outside the arena. Now, are you in or out?"

"I'm in."

"What? No, no, I heard you," I added hurriedly. "I just didn't expect you to actually agree."

"It's worth a try. Who else do you have?"

"So far, it's me, Memorie, Varius, and the guys from Four," Allison told him. "We're going to talk to anyone we can during Memorie's Victory Tour, and you happened to be first on the list."

For the first time, Chard's face crinkled into a smile. "Glad I was such a high priority in planning your brilliant takeover. Do you want to talk to Burr, or should I?"

"We were hoping you'd approach him first, actually," I said. "He doesn't like Careers much, am I right?"

Chard snorted. "Who does?" He glanced up at Allison. "Sorry. This is going to take some getting used to."


	6. The Outliers

The celebration in District Eleven was much like the one in Twelve, except there were five times as many people, the flowers were fresh, and there was a feast after the speeches. Again, I complemented the bravery of the tributes from the Quell, and this time, I added words about Chard, and the crowd cheered for their beloved victor in a way they hadn't for me.

I didn't mind; he was my ally now, and if his district supported him, that was more help for the cause. _And Neera killed their tributes for me, so they have no reason to like me any more than they like the Careers. _

I clutched my flowers as we got back on the train, this time headed for Ten, the district that raised livestock. District Ten was one of the places I was afraid of visiting; both their tributes had shown intense animosity toward the Careers in general and Neera in particular. She'd killed them both.

Somehow, I didn't think it would be a good idea to approach the victors from Ten, even though we might have some down time before taking the train to Nine. Like Eleven, Ten had two victors. I'd never heard any of the others talk about them, either in an abstract or personal context, and I wasn't inclined to go in cold.

The smart thing would probably be to ask Allison about them, but she'd been increasingly withdrawn since we'd left the Capitol, and I didn't want to intrude. Instead, I had dinner with Theta as our train rolled though the mountains, filling her in on last night's discussion with Chard over steaming chicken soup and some kind of sweet, dark bread.

"You didn't speak to Burr in person?" Theta asked. "It might not be wise to let people in on our secret without meeting them yourself."

"Didn't you see his Games? I asked. "The girl from Two, the one Allison mentored, killed his district partner. I didn't think he'd be happy if Allison showed up on his doorstep in the middle of the night. Or me, for that matter. Some people seem to be considering me an honorary Career, ironically."

"I'm sure that's not true," Theta said. "Surely he doesn't take it personally. Allison, for all her many flaws, was merely doing her job in that case."

I wished Theta had chosen to reassure me on the second count rather than the first. I wasn't a Career, not even close. The fact that Neera had killed in my name wasn't the same as if I'd done it myself. I hoped if I told myself that enough times, I'd start to believe it.

"She was, and if they can't put it behind them, our little revolution may be doomed. Still, it didn't seem like a bad idea to have Chard talk to Burr for us. They aren't a Career district, so Chard wasn't Burr's mentor per se, but I'm sure they've formed some kind of relationship since Burr won his Games," I explained, spooning soup into my mouth and humming in delight at the rich flavor.

Theta nodded. "Speaking of mentors, I hope Varius still intends to meet us when we reach District Nine. I know it's irrational, but I can't help feeling a bit exposed onstage in front of people from the districts. There are Peacekeepers, but…I'd still like Varius with us."

Privately, I thought Varius was significantly more dangerous than any number of people from the districts we'd visited, but then, Theta was slightly biased. Still, I found it interesting that she trusted Varius over the Peacekeepers. Given that Peacekeepers were the Capitol's instruments for maintaining order, I considered Theta's loyalty to Varius a good sign.

I'd been right to worry about District Ten. Also, Theta had been right to wish Varius had been with us from the beginning.

When I got off the train, I was greeted by angry shouts. Two groups of people stood the left of the stage, at the very front of the crowd, and I recognized them as the families of the dead tributes. Without meaning to, I reached up and clutched the gold angel that hung on its chain around my neck.

The mayor was a tall man with pale skin and red hair, and he crushed my hand in his during the ceremonial greeting. From the look on Theta's face, I could tell he'd hurt her, too. I swallowed hard, bracing myself for the mayor's introduction.

"Citizens of District Ten, let me present Memorie Renwick, victor of the first Quarter Quell," he began. The crowd fell silent, but the weight of their eyes made it difficult for me to stand up straight and maintain my forced smile. "She is living proof that unorthodox tactics can lead to victory, if you only pick the right target for your…affections."

I sighed. This man wasn't the first to assume Neera had aided me because I'd seduced her – whether this alleged seduction was supposed to have taken place before or after we entered the arena, no one seemed to know – but he was the first to make it a public joke. To make it worse, at that moment, a tomato sailed out of the audience and splattered across the front of my pale green dress. From the smell – not to mention the slime – it must've been rotten.

Four Peacekeepers emerged from the edges of the audience, shouting for order and waving their weapons ostentatiously. The damage was done, though; most of the crowd was laughing at my disarray and the mayor was fending off Theta's valiant attempt to commandeer his microphone.

Behind me, the door to the train scraped open. Allison grabbed me around the waist and pulled me inside, then went back for Theta. Once all three of us were safely inside, Allison slammed the door shut.

"Let me see that," she said briskly, pushing Theta out of the way so she could examine the exploded tomato on my chest and stomach. After a few seconds, she hissed. "Damn. I was afraid of that." She looked down at me – she'd pushed me into a sitting position on the floor and was kneeling in front of me, while Theta looked on anxiously – and there was fear shining in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" I asked faintly.

"There was something in the tomato. A dart, probably. I can see a little bit of it, but the majority is buried in your sternum, right under your ribs. Can't you feel it?" Allison was using her shirtsleeve to wipe tomato pulp off the area in question, and it was a mark of the situation's seriousness that Theta didn't scold her.

"Can't feel much," I replied, my tongue suddenly feeling like it weighed several pounds.

"Hell, it's a tranquilizer dart," Allison cursed. "Should've guessed. Stupid cow-herders. We need to get her to a doctor." I thought she said more, but my vision and hearing faded simultaneously, and I drifted into unconsciousness.

When I woke up, I knew immediately I was in a Capitol hospital room. I'd been spending enough time there lately to recognize the cocktail of scents: sharp antiseptic and old rubber. At least this time I was face-up on the bed, so I could look around.

My room was deserted, but there was a chair by my bed with a white rectangle on it. An envelope. Curiously, I sat up and leaned over the bed rail, hissing when I accidentally tugged at the IV in my right wrist. I managed to snag the envelope in my left hand, and I smiled, pleased with my small victory.

I tore the flap open with clumsy hands and unfolded the single sheet of paper I found inside.

_Memorie Renwick, _the letter began, removing any doubt I'd harbored that it was intended for me. _I admired the persistence and intelligence you showed in the arena. If you want to live long enough to put them to further use, do not visit Districts One, Two, or Ten without taking extra precautions._

I lowered the paper, frowning. Was that a threat? I read on. _In fact, I would recommend you avoid leaving your district entirely, but I doubt President Snow will permit you to cut your victory tour short. _

Not a threat, then; a warning. A useful one, because I wouldn't have thought to be particularly watchful in District Two. I bent my head back to the page in my hands. _Even victors – perhaps I should say _especially_ victors_ _– are not permitted to purchase weapons or military-grade shields, so you will be unable to acquire body armor like what you used in the Games._

I knew that. Everyone knew that. Unless you were a Peacekeeper or from the Capitol, being found in possession of something like a functional suit of body armor was easily enough to merit being made into an Avox. _For that reason, I have taken it upon myself to provide for you. I know you refuse to use a weapon, for reasons I cannot fathom, but you have shown no compunctions about defending yourself in other ways. The next time you order merchandise from the Capitol, a set of force field armor will be included in the delivery._

Even though no one was there to see, I raised my eyebrows. Whoever had written the letter had connections in the Capitol, but was also supportive of treason. This person could be a very valuable ally indeed, assuming the letter wasn't a trap of some sort. I couldn't think why Snow, Gallegos, or anyone else would bother with such an elaborate scheme – they had more direct ways of hurting me – but it was always good to be aware of the possibility. After being immobilized by a tranquilizer dart concealed in a rotten tomato, I thought I'd earned the right to a bit of paranoia.

_I will be watching you, Memorie Renwick. If you survive the tour and I decide your works merit my continued aid, I will join your effort. _The letter ended on that abrupt note, and there was no signature. The words on the page had been written by hand, and the handwriting itself had a contained unruliness that made me think it belonged to a man. I set the paper on my lap and smoothed my hands over it, considering.

When Allison entered the room, followed by Varius and Theta, I smiled and sat up. "Hi," I said. "I was beginning to think you'd abandoned me to the mercies of the Capitol."

"I was gone for less than fifteen minutes," Allison shot back, looking wounded. "A person has to eat, you know. Besides, Theta had forgotten where your room was, so I had to go to the lobby to meet her and Varius."

"How long was I out this time?" I asked, the words tasting displeasingly familiar. I was starting to feel that I'd woken up in a hospital more often than in my own room these past few months.

"Not long," Allison assured me. "You were unconscious for three hours on the train, but once we brought you back here, they got the tranquilizer out of your system before it could kill you. You've been in the hospital for about twelve hours."

"What am I supposed to do about the rest of my tour?" I asked, suddenly mindful of the sheet of paper under my fingers.

It was Theta who answered this time. "You're being given a week at home to recover, then we'll pick up with District Nine."

I nodded in acknowledgement, then asked what I'd been wanting to know since they had arrived. "Allison, you said you were here before, when I was asleep. Do you know who sent this?" I held up both the envelope and the folded paper it had contained.

"It was delivered by an Avox, with written instructions that it wasn't to be opened by anyone but you. I'm not sure who sent it, though," she said.

"Here, take a look, all of you," I offered, holding the letter out. "See if you recognize the handwriting, or the tone or anything else." Varius accepted it, unfolding the paper. His eyes narrowed as he read.

"It could be any number of people. I don't recognize the handwriting, but the wording indicates it probably came from someone in the Capitol. Here, see if you can figure out anything else," he said, passing the page to Theta.

She, too, read it carefully before handing it to Allison. Neither had anything to add to Varius' assessment, unless you counted Allison's comment that the anonymous writer "sounds like a real prick."

As promised, the armor arrived when the shipment of food I'd ordered was delivered on the last day of my week at home. The set of joint cuffs came in a silver case. Where the helmet should have rested, there was merely an empty indentation in the packing foam. Too conspicuous, I assumed. I could hide the cuffs under my normal clothes, but the helmet would let everyone know I was wearing illegal armor.

Resting on the foam was an envelope like the one from the hospital. I opened it.

_Memorie Renwick, _I read. _As I suspected, Snow won't let you stay safe for long. I've done my part in keeping you alive. Make sure you do yours. Risk-taking is the name of the game, but don't walk into danger unprepared, and don't risk yourself unnecessarily. _

Well, I didn't get much more vague than that. I sighed and went to get dressed; with the armor, all the dresses Selena had designed for my tour were out of the question, so I was going to be significantly less fashionable for the remainder of my tour.

Theta, Allison and Varius stopped by to pick me up on their way to the train station. Theta frowned at the pants and blouse I'd chosen, but Varius merely brushed his fingers over my wrists and elbows to confirm I was wearing the armor and pulled Theta away.

"Ready for Nine?" Allison asked, hanging back with me as Theta and Varius walked ahead, hand in hand. Allison saw the direction of my gaze and made a gagging sound. "Yeah, they've been like that all week. I swear, they're getting worse. At least when she was our escort, they had to be discreet."

"As long as it keeps both of them on our side, I don't care what they do," I said.

The speech in District Nine went off without a repeat of the tomato incident, and in District Eight, the family of the male tribute thanked me tearfully for easing their son's suffering during the Games. "I'd say the same thing to her, if she were here," sobbed Jason Weaver's mother, clutching her husband's hand tightly. "She was one of them, but she gave him a good death. And she killed Glint."

"Neera wasn't one of them," I replied. "Not in any of the ways that mattered." I shook hands with both grieving parents. "I'm sorry about Jason."

After that encouraging conversation, I was tempted to approach District Eight's victor. When I asked after him, though, I was told he was in the Capitol.

The same thing happened in Districts Five, Six, and Seven, and I began to worry that President Snow had somehow gotten wind of my plan and was already taking steps against me. When we finished the ceremony in District Four, though, all four victors were waiting by the stage for us.

Mags game me a hug, flashing the brilliant smile I remembered. "It's good to see you again, Memorie," she said. "How are things in your district? Oh, before I forget, Barra spoke to Hinge for you."

"Oh? What did he say? Will he help us?" I asked.

Barra, who had just finished greeting Allison and Varius, said, "He didn't think he'd be much use, but he'll help us however he can. I think he's glad to have something to do besides mentoring."

"We got Chard Samos too," Allison told her. "He hasn't been to the Capitol in years, not since Burr won and took his place as official toy for Capitolians who want a taste of District Eleven. Seeing him again might be good for Hinge."

"Maybe," Barra agreed. "What about your district? Have you made any progress there?"

"A bit," said Varius. "I'm hoping Renwick here can talk some sense into Felix when we get home tomorrow. Claudius is a lost cause, though. Kicked my ass halfway to the Capitol when I suggested he meet Renwick. Gave me a hard time about Neera, too." Theta must've heard the dull edge of sorrow in his tone too, because she reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Really?" I asked, grabbing onto the piece of good news and pursuing it. "You never told me you were getting through to Felix. What should I say to him?"

"The same things you said to the rest of us," Varius said. "Just…whatever you do, don't mention his Games. Even if he brings them up first, try to change the subject. And," he lowered his voice so that the mayor and our Peacekeeper escorts couldn't hear, "wear that armor of yours."

_Is everyone from District Two this unstable, _I wondered, _or just the ones who survived the arena?_ From what I'd seen, Allison was emotionally unbalanced at best, rocketing between humor, anger and depression with disconcerting speed, while Varius possessed a perpetual hyper-alertness indicative of post-traumatic stress disorder. By comparison, the victors from Four were positively cheery. Even Fetch's brooding silence and Skiff's occasional outbursts seemed relatively harmless. When Allison or Varius got angry, I sometimes feared for my life.

"Okay, everyone back on the train," one of the Peacekeepers shouted, making me jump. I allowed myself to be herded back to my compartment, looking back over my shoulder ruefully. District Four was my favorite so far, with the ocean a constant presence against the horizon and in the brine-scented air. The company didn't hurt either.

Back on the train, I changed into a comfortable pair of loose-fitting pants and a matching shirt and settled myself cross-legged on Allison's bed to watch her finish her nightly fitness routine. "I feel like I'm twelve years old again, with you staring at me like that," Allison gasped, breathing hard as she completed a final set of push-ups. "The instructors for first-year trainees were especially scary, trying to weed out anyone who wasn't serious about the Games, I guess. They looked at me just like that right before they corrected the position of my feet or something."

"No danger of that," I chuckled. "As far as I'm concerned, you're crazy for doing this twice a day. I don't care where your feet are."

She flipped to her feet in a single fluid motion, coming over to sit beside me. "Hey, do you want me to go with you tomorrow, to talk to Felix? I know him pretty well – as well as anyone, I mean – and he can be a bit intense at times."

"Is he actually insane?" I asked. "I mean, of course I'll wear my armor, but that won't do me any good if he goes for my throat or something." I thought of my mystery letter-writer, and wondered if he would consider this walking into danger unnecessarily.

Allison shrugged. "You remember Quintus Tiziano?"

_How could I forget? He killed Neera._ I nodded.

"Felix is like an older, slightly more jaded version of him. Even down to the looks. They could be brothers, with that blond hair," she said. "Felix had a rough time in the arena. Had to kill his district partner at the end, just like… Sorry."

_Just like Neera, or just like Quintus? Regardless, neither of them lived long enough to have the luxury of regret._ "It's okay," I said. "And I'd rather speak to Felix alone, if at all possible." I didn't think any Career would be impressed if I thought I needed a bodyguard to protect me during a simple conversation, and since it looked like we couldn't expect Claudius to support us, winning Felix over was even more important.

"If you're sure," Allison said. "But remember what Varius said. Don't talk about the Games. His, or anyone's, not if you can help it." That would be difficult, since the Hunger Games formed the entire basis for uprising I was trying to begin, but I supposed I could try.

I retired to my compartment, lying in bed and rehearsing what to say to Felix. In the end, I fell asleep more confused than I'd been in the first place.

Theta's shrill voice on the other side of the door woke me. "Memorie, get dressed, we're in District Two," she called. "We have three hours here, then it's on to One." I brushed the hair out of my face, stood up, and braced myself to meet more Careers.


	7. The Careers

The first thing I noticed was the absolute silence. Even in the districts that hadn't been happy to see me, there had been some noise when I arrived: whispers, scuffles, all the small sounds that accompanied any large group of people. Here, there was nothing. I could see the people, thousands of them, gathered in the amphitheater Theta had directed me towards when we got off the train.

When I stepped onto the platform where the mayor waited, the sound of a child crying shattered the stillness. Instinctively, I turned toward the sound. On the lowest tier of the amphitheater, the one nearest the stage, sat a broad-shouldered blond man and two little girls. One of the children had broken into tears, and the man gathered her into his lap, patting her back to calm her.

_Quintus, _I thought. _Those must be his father and sisters. _Despite the guilt I always felt when I saw the families of the deceased, this time I had reason to be thankful, too. _Neera had no family besides Varius. I couldn't – _couldn't – _look into the eyes of her parents and siblings, not when it's my fault she's dead. _I shook my head, hard enough that I got a crick in my neck and Theta looked at me with concern. _Not my fault. It was her decision. If I'd known, I would've tried to stop her. It's done; now live with it._

"Welcome to District Two, Miss Renwick," the mayor said, his voice snapping me out of my daze. He was a tall man, towering over me by at least a foot, and he had the same brown eyes as Neera and Varius. There was no compassion in this particular pair of eyes, though; his expression made me glad I was wearing armor. "Everyone, please welcome the victor of the 25th annual Hunger Games."

Silence.

Even the little girl had stopped crying, and was now staring at me, wide-eyed, from her father's lap. Her sister – they looked enough alike that I wondered if they were twins – clutched their father's hand tightly.

"Yes, well," said Theta awkwardly, accepting the microphone from the mayor. "Memorie has prepared a few words. Memorie?"

And I had no choice but to step forward and begin my speech, stumbling over every third word in my nervousness. I read from the teleprompter, something I hadn't needed to do in any of the other districts, and my words sounded stiff and meaningless even to my own ears. To no one's surprise, the crowd didn't applaud when I finished and stepped down from the stage.

Theta hustled after me, her heels scraping sharply against the bare stone underfoot. "Well, how positively rude," she sniffed, accepting Varius' arm as he walked down from the opposite side fo the platform.

"I thought they'd know better, with us there," Varius muttered.

"Yeah, well, I was never their favorite victor, and you were Neera's mentor," said Allison. "Maybe this silent treatment extends to us, too, as long as we're with Renwick."

"That's fine," I said. "This way, I have more time to talk to Felix."

"Let's hope _he_ talks to her," said Theta, still disgruntled.

"Come with me," Varius said, talking over Theta's head. "I'll show you to Felix's home, and the rest of us will wait at my house while you work your magic."

In District Two, Victor's Village was large, both sides of the paved road lined with freshly painted mansions. After directing me toward a slate-blue house on the right, Varius led the others to his home, which was the second on the left. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I went up the gravel-lined walk and knocked on the front door.

It opened almost instantly – Allison had been right, this man looked just like Quintus – and Felix stepped out, holding a knife in his hand. I noticed a pale scar through his left eyebrow. Whatever had wounded him had barely missed the eye. "Who are you?" he growled, and his voice sounded like Quintus' too, but half an octave deeper.

"I'm Memorie Renwick, from District Three?" I hadn't meant for it to sound like a question, but I was confused. After the president and a few other Capitol big shots, I was the most famous person in Panem at the moment.

"Yes, of course," Felix said sarcastically, leaning against the doorjamb. "Don't mind me, it's just that you were covered in much more sand the last time I saw you. And, you know, they say the camera adds ten pounds."

Of course: I wasn't supposed to talk about the Games, so what did Felix pick as a conversation opener? "You watched my Games," I said, adopting a light tone to match his. "I'm honored. I know how seriously you Careers take these things."

"Yeah," he said, his smile fading. "Come inside. De Luca told me you might show up. Where is he, by the way?"

I stepped thorough his front door, keeping a wary eye on the knife. "He took Allison and my district's escort home with him. We have a few hours here before we continue on to District One."

He frowned, closing the door behind us and plunging the room into darkness. I blinked a few times, but there didn't seem to be any other light source – even the windows were concealed behind heavy drapes. "Don't you have any lights?" I asked, right after I stumbled over some indeterminate object on the floor and bashed my shin against the sharp edge of a table.

He made a sound like a hiss. "No lights," he snarled, sounding, for a single terrifying moment, more like Glint than Quintus.

"Okay, I get it. No lights. Sorry," I said, my voice shaking a little.

He released a gusty breath, and his hand closed around my upper arm. "Here, sit down," he said, guiding me to what I presumed was a couch. He sat beside me with a minor creaking of joints. "Listen, I watched you in the arena. Unlike de Luca and Romano, I'm not going to fall at your feet because one of our failed tributes decided you were worth keeping around a while longer."

"Neera was the biggest success this bloody excuse for a district has ever produced," I snapped. "What score did you get in training, Felix? Huh?"

He shifted beside me, and suddenly his breath was hitting me full in the face. It smelled like alcohol and mint. "A ten. But that doesn't mean she was better than me. Claudius got an eleven, but that doesn't mean he's inferior to Varius. Quite the opposite." He paused. "Hell. We're getting off topic."

"Yes, we are. Don't insult Neera again." I had no intention of apologizing to him.

Felix actually laughed, not at all what I'd been expecting. "All right, sweetheart. For you. Now, how are you planning to help District Twelve win? And what did you do to make Varius agree to go along?"

"I didn't do anything," I replied. "To Varius, I mean. He gave me some good advice after I got out of the arena. Stayed with me. The Capitol poisoned Flux, my mentor."

"Yeah, I heard about that. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. He wasn't a bad guy. Smart. And drunk," he finished, trying unsuccessfully to hold back a snort of laughter. "Now, what about Twelve?"

"You and Claudius are mentoring next year's tributes, right?" I asked. There was a rustling sound, and I assumed Felix had nodded. "Well, I want you – and all the other mentors – to do whatever you can to help Twelve stay alive. Without being obvious, of course."

"You want us to undermine our own tributes? No way in hell."

I sighed in frustration. "It's not a permanent thing," I said, hoping I sounded reassuring. "This – helping Twelve get a victor – is a gesture of good faith, a way to show that we're not working for the good our own districts to the exclusion of everyone else. My hope is that the other victors, the ones who haven't joined us yet, will see that, and agree to help us. Once we have the strength of all the districts behind us, we can worry about the actual rebellion."

"Even if it's just for the next Games, I don't like it," Felix said. "No one else will, either. How are you planning to deal with it, just sending two kids from your district in there to be slaughtered?"

"I'm going to deal with it by reminding myself that this is the only way I can think of to eventually end the Games forever," I retorted.

"Fair enough," he said. I heard a clinking sound from his direction, and thought he had set his knife down on the table. I wasn't sure that was a good thing, given what I'd seen all the Careers do barehanded in both the arena and the training center. "No wonder Romano likes you. You're smart just like her. She always was the only one of us with anything resembling a brain."

I made a mental note to slip Felix's compliment casually into the next conversation I had with Allison since she could certainly use the confidence boost. Also, I was rapidly reevaluating her post-Games trauma, having now seen exactly how much worse it got, even for Careers.

"Hey Renwick, a word of advice. You're going to District One next."

"Yeah," I confirmed, even though he hadn't really been asking.

"Don't expect a warm reception. One really wanted to get three wins in a row, and you broke their streak," he said. "I should thank you for that, by the way. If Two couldn't win, I'm glad it was you. Well, Four wouldn't have been bad either," he amended. "The Capitol would've been hell on that boy, though. What was his name?"

"Atlas," I replied, my voice little more than a whisper as I recalled the laughing tribute from District Four. He and his district partner had been eaten by one of the Gamemakers' mutts, so the Capitol wouldn't have even been able to send their bodies home for their families to bury if Neera hadn't finally killed the thing.

"Yeah, him," agreed Felix. "Anyway, about District One…watch your back. They might do worse than give you the silent treatment. Their idea of cutthroat business puts the Capitol to shame. They're not above assassination."

"Neither was Ten, and I survived anyway," I replied acerbically. "Besides, if you're so worried about my safety, why don't you come with me?"

He snorted. "Don't feel like dealing with Jet today," he said. "Right bastard, that one. He won the thirteenth Games," Felix added, I assumed for my benefit.

"I knew that!" I announced, proud that I'd gotten the year right before Felix confirmed it.

"Good girl," he replied lazily, making me remember that any child in this district would know as much. "Now, if you're quite finished here, Ellise will be waiting for me to critique her spear work. I _am_ still allowed to train my students, I hope?"

"I'd rather you didn't, but it would be hypocritical in the extreme for me to disparage the way you train your tributes," I replied, getting cautiously to my feet. "After all, it's the reason I'm alive today."

"I'm glad you recognize that," Felix said approvingly, taking my arm as he led me back to the door. "Blind idealism won't get you far in Panem."

_At least they're not just standing there and staring at me like Two did,_ I thought, searching for a bright side to the coolly polite applause my speech had drawn from the citizens of District One. In lieu of a bouquet of flowers, the mayor, a tall, elegant woman with silver hair, presented me with a glittering ring set with some blue stone. I didn't need the warning shake of Varius' head to know it was probably poisoned, and I slipped it into my pocket instead of putting it on my finger. Even if I had been so inclined, I couldn't put the ring on without first removing the armor-generating cuff from one of my wrists, which I had no intention of doing.

In this district, all four victors were arrayed directly in front of the stage, dressed in finery so absurd-looking it had to be the height of fashion in the Capitol. If they were hoping to intimidate me, it was working, though perhaps not as well as if I hadn't been accompanied by Allison and Varius. They stood at my shoulders like bodyguards, leaving Theta trailing, disgruntled, to Allison's right.

As the audience began to disperse, One's victors ascended the stairs to the stage, smiling so widely I feared their facial muscles would cramp. "How lovely to see you again so soon," said the tall man leading the group, pointedly ignoring me as he shook hands with first Allison, then Varius. They exchanged pleasantries – Varius wore an expression that suggested he'd just swallowed rancid milk, but said all the right things anyway – until I began to wonder if they, like all of District Two, were planning to pretend I didn't exist.

Then all four of them focused their attention on me, and I found myself impaled by three pairs of blue eyes and one pair of gray. I nearly took a hasty step back, but Allison and Varius anticipated the move and crowded me unobtrusively from behind so I couldn't make myself look like a coward.

"And Memorie Renwick, it's delightful to finally meet you in person," purred the only woman in the group, leaning down from a lofty height augmented by hazardous-looking shoes to inspect my face more closely. Childishly, I found myself trying not to blink as I held her gaze. "She's even more beautiful in person, don't you agree?" the woman murmured, appealing to her companions without removing her eyes from mine.

"She's stunning," concurred the shortest of the men, a classically handsome blond I recognized as Emery, District One's most recent victor. He'd won last year's Games, and I specifically remembered how one of the little girls from my childcare center had shrieked in horror when Emery shot our district's male tribute through the eye. I gave Emery my coldest stare, but he didn't even flinch. _Yes, this place is more dangerous than District Two, because at least there, you'll see the knife coming._

"No more beautiful than you, Chime," added the man I'd initially pegged as the leader, smiling at the woman with something akin to contempt. It was true, though; where I could claim a sort of delicate attractiveness, the woman – Chime – possessed a raw sex appeal I would never achieve. _Be thankful, _I told myself. _She'll still be "repaying" her sponsors ten years from now. At least Gallegos is only one man._

The sympathy that accompanied my realization brought me back to myself, and I stretched my hand out to the woman. "Chime, is it?" I asked, subtly pointing out that no one in the group had had the courtesy of making introductions. "The honor is all mine. I must say, your district is quite elegant."

Chime tensed as though stung, but recovered rapidly, offering me a distant smile. "Yes, dear, it must seem quite overwhelming to you, coming from District Three." She said the words _District_ _Three_ the way most people would say _rat_ _feces_. And, I noted, she still didn't introduce her companions.

Judging by Theta's disapproving frown, she was equally unimpressed with One's vaunted hospitality. "Of course, this," Theta waved her hand, effectively dismissing the magnificent buildings of the town as so much rubble, "is nothing compared with the splendor of the Capitol, don't you agree?"

From the expression on her face, I half-expected Chime to vomit. She was forced to nod, though, because failing to admit the Capitol's superiority was simultaneously stupid, dangerous and indicative of dreadful architectural taste. I'd have to congratulate Theta later.

In the meantime, I settled for flashing the District One victors a beatific smile. "Well, as nice as this had been, we're on a tight schedule. Theta, what time are we due back in Three?"

"The celebration starts at nine tomorrow morning," Theta said. She turned to address the victors. "Memorie is right, we really must be going. I'm sure we'll see all of you in the Capitol, though." Varius and Allison each muttered something that might have been a polite goodbye and herded me onto the train. I noticed they didn't turn their backs on the other victors until they'd slid the door closed behind us.

Allison collapsed against the wall with an exaggerated sigh. "They just keep getting bitchier," she grumbled. "What I wouldn't give to get Chime back in the arena… Oh well. I guess you can't solve all your problems by chopping their heads off."

"No, you really can," Varius said, shoving Allison amiably out of his way. "I especially advise it in the case of any tribute, past, present or future, from District One." He turned to look at me. "How'd it go with Felix? Is he with us?"

"I think so," I said. "That's the impression I got, in between staring at his knife and tripping over his coffee table. He's not going to stop training his kids, though, so we'll have to figure out some way of handicapping your district's tributes if we want Twelve to stand a chance next Games."

Both Varius and Allison winced, and I knew it was going to be hard for them to stand by and watch their tributes lose – die – much less do anything to sabotage them. I wished I could think of a better way to get the other districts' victors to trust us.

Allison drew herself together, though, and asked, "Okay. Who do you think will win the trials, Varius? Maybe if we know who we're dealing with, we can start planning now."

"My money's on Andreas Vincente for the boy, but the girl is anyone's guess," he said.

Allison nodded. "He's a beast. I'm thinking Beltrane or Antonito for the girl. Last time I watched the eighteens spar, they were the only two who didn't get completely mauled."

I raised my hand like I was back in school. "Sorry to interrupt this…whatever this is, but how would it help to know who's going into the arena ahead of time?"

"You have to understand, by the time someone's old enough to be eligible to volunteer – to have any shot at all at winning the trials, really – we've been watching them train for years. At least six years, to be exact," Allison explained. "We know their strengths, their weaknesses, how they'll act under certain circumstances. Pair that with knowledge of the arena, and we're in business."

"But –" Theta spluttered. "You can't know about the arena! You _can't_! It's illegal to know. It's a secret until the day the Games start."

"Of all the things you could be worrying about, you pick _that_?" Varius sounded incredulous. "Besides, we don't _always_ know what the arena will be like beforehand. At most, we get an inkling from hints the Gamemakers drop when they –" he stopped himself mid-sentence, and I wondered how Theta had spent her whole life in the Capitol without knowing how the government prostituted the victors of the Games. "Anyway, we didn't know anything about the last arena," he muttered.

"Hopefully we'll have better luck this year," I said trying not to think about Neera and the desert. Theta was still scrutinizing Varius suspiciously, and I knew he'd have some serious explaining to do in the near future. "This obsession Gallegos has with torturing me might do us some good for a change." I'd attempted to make my voice light, but I could tell from the look Allison shot me that I hadn't quite succeeded.

"I know they've been building it almost since the end of the Quell," Allison said. "That's about all, though. I'm not even sure what kind of equipment they've been using, or whether they've been shipping in sand, or rocks, or anything else."

"It's not a water-based arena, and it's nothing too mechanically complex," Varius added. "Otherwise, they would've had to start construction ages ago. It's going to be fairly standard."

"What qualifies as 'standard'?" I asked. Even thinking back on all the recorded Games I'd watched, I didn't recall any particular type of arena that was more common than the others. They'd all been different, each more cruel and deadly than the last.

Apparently I didn't know what to look for, though, because Allison was nodding in agreement with Varius. "Forest, desert, mountains or snow," she said. "Those are the four big ones," she told me. "Sometimes there are fancy combinations. You know, a snowy forest or something."

That night, my bad dreams featured Neera, who turned into Glint, chasing me across an ever-changing landscape comprised of all the arenas my sleeping brain could remember, combined with a few I'm fairly sure I'd made up.


	8. Counting Down

_Idiot girl, _began the most recent white-enveloped letter. _From your condition, I can only guess you attempted to extract information of a classified nature from Head Gamemaker Gallegos._

It was a good guess. This letter, like the first one, had reached me in the hospital, where I was recovering from a particularly brutal visit to Troy Gallegos' mansion. When I'd had the audacity to ask questions about the arena for the 26th Games – of necessity, the questions were concealed beneath insults and implications galore so as not to arouse suspicion – Gallegos had struck me across the mouth with the handle of his whip, splitting my lower lip so deeply that the doctors doubted the resulting scar would be within the Capitol's abilities to remove.

In a way, I was pleased. If I was going to suffer for my cause, I at least wanted to keep the marks that showed what I'd been through. Allison said if I kept up that kind of thinking I might become an honorary Career after all.

I picked up the letter again, scanning for the place where I'd left off. _That falls under the category of unnecessary risk-taking. The arena itself will be nothing extraordinary this year. It's the mutts and the tributes you'll need to deal with, and Gallegos will provide no helpful insight on those subjects. Do not provoke him again. _Again, I had to fight down my fear that the letters were from Gallegos himself, yet another method of torture. Rationally, I knew psychological manipulation was beyond the Head Gamemaker, but with only two days between me and my last encounter with him, I was still shaken.

_I look forward to meeting you, _the letter concluded. _In the meantime, stay safe._

This was the third time I'd read the message in its entirety, and this time I was nearly positive the writer was one of the victors, one I hadn't met yet. The Games began again in three weeks with a fresh round of Reapings, which meshed with the writer's reference to meeting me.

What victor had the Capitol connections to send me a suit of armor, though? If I hadn't known better, I might've guessed it was Varius. Besides the fact that he already knew me, though, Allison said he and Theta had spent the last week making up after their most recent argument, which meant he probably hadn't left the bedroom long enough to send me a message.

Besides Districts Two and Four, I hadn't met enough of the victors to even hazard a guess at the identity of my mystery correspondent. I was reasonably sure I could rule out District One, and not only because we'd already met, however briefly. Hinge, the morphling addict from Six, was probably out of the question also.

"Don't tell me you're reading that thing again," said a voice from the door, making me jump. I hadn't heard Allison arrive, and while I was now used to her preternatural stealth, I thought she could at least make an effort to be loud when the slightest gesture of startlement on my part made the wounds on my back crack open.

I recoiled from the pain that shot through me, and Allison gave me a pitying look. "Just because Varius wouldn't let them give you any more morphling doesn't mean you have to cry like a baby every time your back twinges a little," she said condescendingly.

I'd have to thank Varius when he and Theta finally surfaced. This was the fifth time I'd had to be hospitalized after spending time with Gallegos, and if I kept getting a morphling drip every time I was here, I'd end up worse than Hinge. Still, that didn't mean I enjoyed the pain, and I said as much to Allison.

She snorted indelicately, settling herself in the chair by my bedside. "You're supposed to accept pain, not enjoy it," she instructed me. From the singsong tone she'd adopted, I guessed she was quoting someone, a teacher, maybe.

"That's what Vega always said," she added, confirming my suspicion. Vega, the now-deceased second victor from District Two, sounded like a delightful woman.

"Speaking of crazy people," I interjected, "Have you spoken to Felix lately? He said he'd give us an update when he thought he knew which of his girls would be going into the arena."

"I talked to him, but he still has no idea," she answered, rolling her eyes. "It's absolutely typical of him. I mean, he's been training both of them for years, so you'd think he'd know who was better. We're just going to have to wait for the tribute trials."

"How does that work, anyway," I asked, only half-wanting to know.

Allison, of course, was eager to discuss the inner workings of the Career selection progress. Her eyes lit up, and she said, "Well, the week before the Reapings, all the eighteens – that's the group of eighteen-year-old tributes, if you couldn't guess – compete to see who gets to volunteer for the Games. They're split into boys and girls, and there's basically a free-for-all. At the end, whoever's conscious is declared winner."

"Is – is that what happened last year?" I wondered aloud.

"Yeah," Allison said, not unkindly. "There really wasn't any doubt Neera would win the female trials, but it's customary to hold them anyway. She didn't kill anyone, though. That sometimes happens, especially if the winner is afraid someone will break the rules and try to volunteer anyway."

In spite of everything I knew about the Career districts, especially District Two, that knowledge still had the power to make me shiver. "What about everyone else? You? Varius? Felix? Claudius?"

The look Allison gave me made me feel as if I was being weighed and measured. "I didn't kill anyone. Varius and Felix did. Claudius was before the tribute trial system started. He wasn't even a volunteer, because no one volunteered back then."

I just nodded, not entirely surprised. Besides, I'd already accepted that Varius and Felix – and Allison, for that matter – had killed before, so I tried not to revise my opinion of them when I found out they had more deaths on their hands than I'd originally known.

"Do they have trials in One and Four?" I asked. This was one of the reasons I preferred Allison to Varius: she liked talking, and never got tired of answering my questions.

She shook her head. "Four doesn't even have volunteers, usually," she said. "They're counted as a Career district because their tributes are strong enough that they tend to end up in the pack with ours. "District One has a training center, but it's not as good as ours," she went on, pride apparent in her voice. "Lots of their kids train, but they don't have any sort of system. Anyone can volunteer, it's just a matter of who gets to the stage first."

"They must be very sure they're going to win, to volunteer like that," I said, thinking aloud.

"Of course," Allison replied. "When you spend years of your life training single-mindedly to go into the arena, you don't just think you're going to win, you know it. On the train to the Capitol, both Quintus and Neera were like that." For a moment, she sounded distant and sorrowful, and I wondered whether it was for the boy she'd mentored or the girl who had saved my life.

Or maybe the sadness was for her younger self, I realized, because after a moment's pause, she added, "I wasn't sure at first. Honestly, I was shocked when I won the trials. There was this girl, Helena Petrides, who always beat me when we sparred. Always, except that one day. I still wonder if she lost on purpose."

Allison drew a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she gave me a determined smile and changed the subject.

"Do you think you'll be back on your feet in time for the Reapings?" she asked.

"One way or another, I will be," I said. "Unless they give me back to Gallegos before the Games, but I don't think the president wants me looking less than perfect for the cameras once the media storm starts. Besides, this –" I waved the paper in my hand, "– just told me not to ask Gallegos any more questions about the arena. Whoever's writing to me thinks it's not the playing field we need to watch out for, but the players themselves. Mutts, too."

"Yeah, they outdid themselves with the mutts during your Games," Allison said. "I think it's that geneticist Snow – the old Snow, I mean – hired a few years back. "I didn't envy Neera having to fight that worm monster."

This time, it was my turn to change the subject, because Allison's words had left me with a picture of Neera's determined face in my mind. _Three hundred and seventeen days,_ the voice in my head whispered, repeating the words like a lullaby it was singing to soothe itself. I shut it down firmly, focusing on the present.

"By the way, I think I figured out the letters are coming from one of the other victors," I told Allison. "Can you think of anyone who could pull enough strings in the Capitol to send me armor and have notes delivered anonymously?"

She frowned for a minute, thinking. "Barra and Varius," she said at last. "Jet, from One. Claudius, obviously. It can't be any of them though, mostly because that wouldn't make sense. I don't know any of the outliers well enough to say what their Capitol connections are."

"That's something we need to change, then," I said, shifting with relief into rebellion-planning mode. "During these Games, our secondary goal needs to be making friends with as many other victors as possible. Or allies, if not friends," I amended, correctly interpreting Allison's dubious look.

"You're forgetting that I'm not a mentor this year," she chided. "Oh, I promised you I'd be around, so I will be, but they're not going to let me into the control center with the rest of you. It's against the rules."

"Damn," I said, making her glance at me in mild surprise. I _had_ forgotten. No matter how many times Allison and Varius explained how the mentoring rotation worked in their district, I couldn't quite remember it. I did, however, know that Felix and Claudius were this year's mentors, and Felix and Allison would be mentors the following year.

"Well, maybe that's good," I added finally. "Claudius is one of the early victors, so I'm sure he knows all the others really well. No offense to you, of course."

Allison was already shaking her head. "None taken," she said. "Especially since I'm willing to bet I know the other victors better than Claudius does, because he hardly ever leaves the district anymore. This will be the first time he's mentored since the fourteenth Games."

That was news to me. It also put a kink in my plans, because I sincerely doubted Claudius, winner of the third annual Hunger Games, would take kindly to a seventeen-year-old telling him he had to make nice with people he'd been avoiding for years. With difficulty, I refrained from cursing again. Twice in one day would probably make Allison die of shock.

"Felix knows everyone, though," she was saying, undistracted by my own mental detour. "He doesn't _like_ everyone, but he knows them. And I think he's more willing to help you then he's letting on. Mentoring bores him. For all his paranoia, I sometimes think he'd like to be back in the arena. He gets off on danger."

As deeply disturbing as that was, it was also nice to know I'd have a partner in crime, so to speak. "Where'd he get that knife?" I asked, remembering the way Felix had greeted me back in Two.

"Which one?" Allison asked, rolling her eyes. "Most of the victors have at least one illegal weapon. Um, except you, I mean," she added uncomfortably. "Anyway," she continued. "Felix has quite the collection of knives. I think he probably paid an outrageous amount for them on the black market, and I know he's had to bribe Peacekeepers out of reporting him a few times."

Thinking back to what I remembered of Felix's Games, the knife thing didn't surprise me much. Knives had been his weapons of choice, and he'd wielded them with a murderous precision I wasn't sure Neera could've matched.

His arena had been one I now recognized as "standard," a desert-like scrubland with few rocks and fewer trees; in short, almost nowhere to hide. That was one of the years the Gamemakers had tampered with the natural cycle of day and night to devastating effect. The bloodbath that year took place in late afternoon, and when the sun went down at the end of the day, it didn't rise again for the duration of the Games. The Capitol must've installed special cameras in the arena, though, because the footage was a clear and horrific as usual.

As far as I'd seen, Felix's victory had had three components: luck, generous sponsors and superhuman perseverance. In the initial battle at the Cornucopia, he'd picked up a pack with a pair of night-vision goggles, which the Career pack had used to hunt less fortunate tributes as they stumbled around in the dark. Then, when the Career alliance had dissolved, Felix's sponsors had sent him stimulant capsules that allowed him to go without sleep for days on end.

He'd kept going long after the caffeine, or adrenaline, or whatever it was, had worn off, though. In that arena, falling asleep meant death, because there was no cover and no designated nighttime, which was something even the Careers usually acknowledged as time to sleep rather than hunt. Once it had gotten down to the final four, all Felix's opponents had also acquired glasses that let them see in the dark, so only the fact that he was constantly moving kept him alive.

In the end, it had come down to him and the boy from Seven. Even stumbling over his own feet and trembling with fatigue, Felix's aim was flawless, and he'd finished his opponent with a throwing knife between the eyes.

That – the nature of his arena – was why I'd been so amazed to find he preferred to live in total darkness. It made a bit more sense now that Allison told me he missed the Games. _He's like Neera,_ I thought. _He was in his element during the Games, but that very fact doomed him when it came to life as the Capitol's toy. _

I picked up the angel necklace from my bathroom counter – I'd taken to leaving it in District Three when I was summoned to the Capitol for Gallegos's amusement just in case it didn't make it back to the hospital with me one of these times – and fastened it around my neck. I'd come home unaccompanied, for once, because the Reapings were in less than a week and Varius and Allison's new status as would-be rebels couldn't stand up to a lifetime of pro-Games conditioning.

Still, the apartment seemed oddly empty without them, so when a chime signaled that someone downstairs wanted to come up, I walked a little faster than usual to answer the call. The voice on the other end of the line was unfamiliar, though, and it turned out to be only a Capitol messenger with yet another white envelope for me.

I turned it over in my hands, not minding when the sharp corners dug into the flesh of my palm. Finally, I shook myself out of my daze and ripped it open, fastening my eyes hungrily on the letter inside.

_Congratulations on your continued survival, _it said, skipping over the salutation altogether. _I would wish you luck with your district's impending Reaping, but that might, perhaps, be the wrong sentiment, in light of your grander scheme. I propose a deal between us. If you follow through with your plan and produce a victor for District Twelve, I will ensure that the Head Gamemaker discontinues your sessions together. Do we have an agreement?_

It was rather unfair, I thought, to end an anonymous letter with a question. I had no way of replying short of chasing the messenger and his Avox attendant across my district, assuming they hadn't already left. That aside, there were few things I wanted more than for Gallegos to leave me alone, even if that meant I'd be sent to other rich and important Capitolians in his place. Try as I might, I found no reason to refuse the offer – at worst, I would end up back where I was, with no victor and lots of torture.

And the letter confused me in another way, seeming to contradict my theory that the writer was one of my fellow victors. A victor might have the power to send me notes and even armor, but I doubted many people in the Capitol had the ability to call Gallegos off like a dog. There was no way a victor could do so.

Who, then? The Head Gamemaker's obsession with me had been crippling in more ways than one, because it had given me no chance to meet any of the other higher-ups in the Capitol. All of a sudden, I felt my aloneness keenly, realizing how much I'd come to rely on my allies for information.

I turned and went into the bedroom, glad I'd gotten home in time to sleep in my own district for a change. The fact that I couldn't make a plan for when the Games started was messing with my head, my nightmares getting stranger and more intense as the days went by, and I was tired of waking half the building with my screams. At least here, I had the place to myself.

As I'd expected, I dreamed.

The dream was different, though, one I'd never had. It featured neither Neera nor Glint. Instead, I found myself back in the desert, this time accompanied by Claudius, age fifteen. Having never met the Claudius from my time, it wasn't unusual that I was imagining him as he'd been in the recording I'd watched of his Games.

His hair was black, and not cropped short the way the other male Careers wore it. He wasn't actually a Career, though, as numerous people had pointed out. He was handsome enough, in that dark-with-light-eyes way, but he already looked like more than a boy. There was something hard and razor-edged in his eyes, something that spoke of killing and a willingness to kill again.

"Are you ready?" he asked, looking at me sideways. He wasn't much taller than me, but he moved like every part of his body was a weapon, and I flinched under his gaze.

In the dream, I nodded dazedly. Claudius picked me up like Neera had done on the first day of our Games, cradling me in his arms. And like Neera, he ran, long, easy strides that sent us speeding over the sand. After some indeterminate time, he stopped and set me down.

"He'll be here soon," Claudius said, standing over me so his shadow fell on my face. "Are you afraid?"

In the real arena, I had never been afraid at the right times. I'd been numb at the Cornucopia and afraid of Neera, which I now knew was idiotic. In the dream, I shook my head. "I'm not afraid."

Then Head Gamemaker Troy Gallegos crested the dune to out right, and I screamed, scrabbling backwards to get away from him. Above me, Claudius frowned down at me placidly. "You said you weren't afraid, Memorie," he scolded. I tried to answer, but I was frozen by fear.

Claudius loped forward, a spear appearing in his hand. Gallegos, surprised, tried to turn away, but the spear took him through the heart. Claudius spun back to me, smiling widely. "See," he said, breathing a bit hard. "Nothing to be afraid of."

"Thank you," I said. "Why are you protecting me?" I recalled asking Neera the same thing.

He smiled again, helping me to my feet. He ran a hand through my hair and the fresh blood left streaks. "What else would I be doing? I was born for this. We all were."

"I don't understand," I said. "You won your Games. You – you're forty years old! Why are you in my arena?"

He sighed deeply and leaned down to kiss me. In my deep, all-consuming shock, I was too paralyzed to respond, which he took as acceptance. And I kissed him back, feeling as if we'd been doing this for years.

Without warning, my mouth filled with liquid. I shoved Claudius away, gagging. Blood was pouring from his mouth, trickling down his chin and onto his chest. When I put my hand to my own face, it came away red.

I jerked myself awake, sitting up so quickly the weeks-old injuries on my back twinged painfully. In spite of myself, I clapped a hand to my mouth, nearly gasping in relief when it came away dry. As my heartbeat slowed, I managed to gain some emotional distance from the nightmare. Claudius – young Claudius, because I'd never met modern Claudius and had no idea what he looked like – had kissed me, and I'd kissed him back. And then he had died, spewing his heart's blood into my mouth.

No doubt it was some kind of metaphor for my alliance with the Careers, I thought, flopping back down in a way that made my back hurt again. I didn't care, though. It was bad enough when I had straightforward nightmares about the arena. If I was going to have complicated symbolic ones on a nightly basis, I'd start contemplating alcoholism. Too bad Flux wasn't around to give me any pointers.


	9. For the Greater Good

Climbing the stairs to the stage felt like walking to my own execution, the same way it had a year ago, when I'd been the one whose name was called. With difficulty, I refrained from glancing at Theta for reassurance, because I knew she'd be playing the oblivious Capitol escort role to the hilt today, smiling and simpering and talking about the honor of being chosen for the glorious 26th Hunger Games. There were more cameras than usual, probably because last year's victor – me – was from this district.

Once I was in my assigned place between Theta and Mayor Platina, I could no longer avoid looking out over the crowd. The children were in front, grouped by age, and the adults hovered fearfully around the fringes, clinging to each other for comfort.

While their parents sought solace in numbers, each of the children stood alone, staring straight ahead, unmoving. If you were between the ages of twelve and eighteen, you were alone on Reaping Day. If you had friends, the best you could hope for was a sympathetic hug if your name was called. If you had siblings, there would be tears all around, but no one would step forward to take your place.

_This_, I thought, _this is why I hate the Games. Because they raise barriers between us and the other districts, between rich and poor, between brother and sister._

The mayor stepped up to the microphone, beginning the same worn-out speech he made every year, about rebellion and paying tribute and the generosity and benevolence of the Capitol. Then Theta took his place, and I could no longer pretend I was somewhere else, because it was time.

"Ladies and gentlemen of District Three," she trilled, her accent stronger than ever. "Welcome to the 26th annual Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!" She paused as though expecting applause, and when she didn't get any, she grimaced theatrically, stepping toward the table that held the two enormous Reaping Balls.

She drew a slip of paper from the one on the left, and the crowd held its breath as she unfolded it. "Kirstin Reid," she called. From the fifteen-year-old section, a slim girl with red hair stepped forward, moving as if she was in a dream toward the stage. I stretched out a hand, catching her when she tripped over the third riser and would have fallen.

Theta rummaged briefly inside the ball on the right before withdrawing her hand with a flourish. "Dane Powers." That was a boy I'd never met before, who threaded his way through the seventeen-year-old group before walking down the aisle toward us. He must be from the opposite side of town, the part with the factories that produced computer components, and judging from his threadbare clothes, the odds probably hadn't been in his favor at all. Frowning at the four of us on the stage, he offered his hand to the girl for the ceremonial handshake.

Our district's meager contingent of Peacekeepers stepped up, escorting the children – though I shouldn't think of them as children, since the boy was my age at least – to private rooms where they could say goodbye to their families. Theta and I smiled and waved to the cameras and slipped quietly from the stage, making our way to the train.

"That was worse than last year," Theta said with a sigh, allowing her perfect posture to slip for a fraction of a second. "At least in Two, they wanted to be chosen."

"This is better than usual, for us," I said. "None of the really young kids were picked. Dane Powers looks like he might actually stand a chance in the arena." Belatedly, I remembered that I didn't _want_ my kids to be strong competition this year. From the sympathetic look Theta gave me, she'd realized that too.

When Dane and Kirstin stepped onto the train, the girl tearful and the boy looking mutinous, I said, "Hi, guys, I'm Memorie Renwick, your mentor. If you'd like, we can watch the other Reapings now."

"We know who you are," Dane replied, his voice halfway between a hiss and a growl. "What I want to know is whether you can keep us alive."

I took a deep breath. Before, I'd imagined giving my tributes bad advice that would ensure their deaths in the arena, but with two actual people in front of me, I couldn't. That would make my real job harder, but not impossible.

"I can try," I told him, trying to sound confident. "The first step is to get a look at the competition. That means watching the Reapings, don't you agree?" Kirstin nodded immediately, and Dane was only a few reluctant seconds behind her. "Okay, then. Follow me."

In the end, I gave them the only advice I could think of. They both looked terrified after watching the Reapings in the three Career districts, and only marginally less afraid of the other tributes, most of whom seemed about on par with my kids.

"Stick together," I told them. I had my notebook open in my lap, its pages covered with the scribbled observations I'd made watching past Games. Here and there, I'd added notes in the margins, things I'd heard from Allison and Varius and Felix. "In the Capitol and in the arena, the worst thing you can do is look like a target. If there are two of you, you'll be less vulnerable. If you can make other allies, do it."

And here came the part where I betrayed my own district in the name of some intangible greater good. "Both kids from Twelve look stronger than usual this year. If you can manage it, get to know them during training, and if you think they'll accept, propose an alliance. They don't have a mentor, so you can pass my advice along to them as a gesture of goodwill."

"Why should we trust your advice?" Dane asked. "You didn't win the Quell by doing any of the stuff you have written there," he added, gesturing to my notebook.

"It's no secret I've been spending time with some of the victors from the Career districts," I told him, deciding the direct approach might be best in this case. "I've also watched all the old Games. What I have here is twenty-five years of advice written by tributes who died teaching those who followed them what not to do."

"I'll listen to you," said Kirstin, speaking for the first time since I'd met her. "The Careers almost always win, so they must be doing something right. Tell us how to win."

I shot a sideways look at the little redhead, forced to rescind my original impression of her. She had cried in public, so many people would think she was weak. Beneath that, though, burned an intelligence and matter-of-factness that I found admirable.

"They win because they cheat," I said. "Most of them – the ones from One and Two, anyway – have trained illegally for years. We don't have that advantage, so the best thing you can do is learn as much as you can during your time in the Capitol. In the Training Center, they'll have survival stations and weapons stations. Spend most of your time learning survival skills. Traps, especially, can be useful against the Careers.

"Don't ignore the weapons, though. Some of them are going to beyond anything you can learn in the time before the Games, but you should still pick them all up, get a feel for them. You never know what kind of supplies you'll end up with in the arena," I finished, reminded of the way Glint had found a use for fire-starting equipment even in a desert.

"How much good will that do?" scoffed Dane, crossing his arms over his chest in a gesture of denial. "We aren't strong, we aren't well-fed…we're probably going to die of starvation or dehydration before the Careers have a chance to look at us twice."

I nodded. "I know that. Traditionally, it's one of the reasons the outlying districts have a disadvantage against the Careers." I cut myself off, remembering I wasn't supposed to reinforce the divisions the Capitol had built between us. "And I've planned for it, too," I went on. "Starting today, you eat as much food as you can hold. Good, nutritious food, not the sugary crap they'll try to tempt you with. In the evenings, after training, I'll show you some exercises that can help you build strength and endurance." Those were things I'd learned from watching Allison's twice-daily fitness routines.

"That still doesn't tell us how to find water," Dane said stubbornly. Kirstin gave him an angry look, and I sighed. The last thing I needed was tension between my tributes, especially this early in the game. "There was no water in the arena last year besides what the Capitol provided, so I think it's safe to say there will be water this time around. After gathering your allies and getting away from the Cornucopia, your priority should be to find it and…"

After I'd taken a seat in the viewing room, I smoothed my hands across my forehead, wishing that would erase the throbbing headache I'd had since getting off the train. My tributes had spent nearly four hours in the Remake Center, and I'd used the time to shower and change into finery suitable for the Opening Ceremony, even though I technically wasn't part of it this year.

Kirstin and Dane had finally emerged into the chariot bay below the Remake Center draped in folds of silvery cloth studded with tiny lights – what electrical gadget they were supposed to resemble, I couldn't guess – with Serena and her counter part, who had made final adjustments to the costumes. I murmured generic words of encouragement to my tributes, advising them to smile and wave to the crowd in a way that would encourage sponsorship. Serena glared at me from beneath eyelashes so long and shining they would've made good daggers, still not over the fact that I'd stopped wearing the clothes she'd designed for me less than halfway through my Victory Tour.

I spotted Felix standing beside the District Two chariot ahead of ours, and waved to him. "See you upstairs?" he called.

"Yeah," I shouted back. "Heading there now." And I'd taken an elevator to the private screening room from which the mentors traditionally watched the Opening Ceremony. Supposedly, the isolation was intended to remove the temptation for us to sabotage the other districts' tributes, though what danger we could possibly pose with Peacekeepers lining the streets three deep, I wasn't sure.

So far, the room was deserted. Maybe the other mentors were waiting until the parade was rolling. If so, I'd missed the memo. I took the opportunity to observe my surroundings, though there wasn't much to see. The viewing room resembled a miniature version of the room where the Capitol conducted the Victory Ceremony at the end of the Games, with seats arranged theater-style in front of a white projector screen.

Behind me, the door creaked open, and I turned to see Felix striding toward me, a mocking grin on his face. "You're mighty dressed up for someone who's just going to sit in a room with a bunch of stodgy old victors," he teased, trailing his fingers along the brocaded neckline of my pale purple gown.

I narrowed my eyes, causing him to snatch his hand away long before he reached my cleavage. "I wanted to make a good impression," I told him. "I haven't met most of the people who are going to be here tonight. Speaking of which," I added, striving for a casual tone, "Where's Claudius?"

"He'll be here," Felix said absently, turning his gaze to the door as it swung open again. Fetch slouched in, followed by Barra, who was leading a stooped man with wandering eyes and yellowed skin.

"Memorie, Felix," Barra said, nodding a greeting as the trio reached us. Fetch shook Felix's hand silently before taking a seat to our right. "This is Hinge," Barra added, urging the man toward the chair beside Fetch's. He sat down clumsily, showing no sign that he'd noticed our presence. "Sorry, he's always bad on Reaping Day," she whispered, taking the chair between Hinge and Felix.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Hinge," I said anyway, grasping his limp hand in mine before taking my own seat. Over the next few minutes, other victors trickled in, most people I hadn't seen except in grainy old video recordings. I recognized Ten's pair of victors from the sullen glares both men sent in my group's direction and the way they sat in the corner furthest from us.

The door barely had time to close behind them before it was pushed open again, this time by Chard and two other men. The tallest of the group looked so much like Chard he could've been related by blood, so I assumed that was Burr. They sat down near the victors from Ten, mingling as I'd recommended.

Two women came in, separated by a gap of several minutes, and I recognized them as the victors from Five and Nine, respectively. They were followed by Jet and Emery from District One, and I briefly thanked the stars that it wasn't Chime's year to mentor. Barra waved to the pair, motioning for them to join us, and immediately twisted around to engage Jet in conversation when they sat down one row behind us.

Without warning, the screen in front of us lit up, showing the empty roadway where the tributes' chariots would soon appear. The anthem played in the background, nearly drowned out by the cheering of the Capitol throng that crowded the wide avenue. I wasn't paying attention, though, because the door had opened one final time.

I looked down at Felix for an instant – when had I gotten to my feet? – to find him staring at me quizzically. That was insignificant, and I turned my attention back to the door. The man standing there looked nothing like the fifteen-year-old Claudius from the video and my dream. I had to strain to convince myself they were the same person, because this man was tall, muscled like Varius, and had black hair cropped so short it barely covered his skull.

He took the chair to my left so that I found myself sitting between him and Felix – when I recovered myself enough to remember to sit back down, anyway. Claudius looked at me, and his eyes were just as bright and green as they'd been in my nightmare, though there were more lines around them now.

Felix leaned across me to say, "Claudius, this is Memorie Renwick. Memorie, Claudius," which was good, because I was finding it difficult to breathe.

"Miss Renwick, it's an honor," said Claudius, devoting half his attention to me and the other half to the screen, where the first chariot was just emerging into the street.

I took the hand he offered and shook it, his fingers engulfing mine completely. "Claudius," I replied, then swallowed, because my throat was suddenly dry and my voice had come out a croak. Without turning his attention from the screen, Claudius dropped my right hand and picked up my left, resting it, and his hand, on my knee.

Felix raised his eyebrows at me. I shrugged one shoulder – not the one close to Claudius – a fraction of an inch, and focused on the chariots. For the most part, the ceremony was like the one last year. Districts One and Two got the most attention, with District Four falling behind only because their stylists had dressed them as giant fish. I shot Barra a sympathetic look that she countered with a grimace.

The tributes from Twelve were, as usual, unimaginatively garbed as coal miners, and the audience managed to overlook them almost entirely. Both the boy and girl had dark hair and dark eyes, and they stared ahead with set faces, ignoring the crowd as it ignored them.

I spent the duration of the president's welcome speech listing all the things I would need to do to give either of Twelve's tributes a fighting chance, not least of which was that I'd have to trust my tributes to give their allies advice as I'd requested. When the screen faded into blankness again, the victors began to talk amongst themselves and trail out of the room.

I stood up when Claudius and Felix did, and Claudius moved my hand so it rested in the crook of his arm. Felix looked a question at me, but Claudius leaned down and said, "I'll take things from here," and Felix disappeared so fast I barely had time to feel betrayed.

Claudius led me – dragged me, really, because I was fairly sure my legs were even less functional than my mind at the moment – out of the room and to the stairs, which we took, in silence, to the ground floor. Only once we were outside did he speak.

"You have questions," he said, leading me down a street I didn't recognize in the dark. "Ask."

Well. If I had to. "Why are you mentoring this year?" I asked, because it was the first thing that had come to mind, something I'd been wondering since Allison told me Claudius hadn't mentored in twelve years.

"Things are changing," he replied. His words were followed by a pause so long I looked askance at him, sure that couldn't be his entire explanation. "My fellow victors are uneasy about something, spending more time outside the district than they've done in years. The same thing is happening in other districts as well. Chard Samos was in the Capitol two weeks ago, and I know for a fact he hasn't left District Eleven even to mentor since his district got a second victor."

"That still doesn't answer my question," I managed. "Are you saying you chose this year to mentor because you want to know what's going on with the other mentors? Why not just ask Varius?"

Claudius actually snorted, the abrupt sound making me flinch. "Between his protégé's death in the Quell and his not-so-secret relationship with your district's escort, Varius hasn't seen anything beyond the end of his nose in months. I have my own methods of gathering information. But yes, to answer your question, I am here because I want to see the changes in person."

_Finally. The others from Two should teach Claudius a few lessons in directness. _"How do you think your district's tributes will do in the arena this year?" I asked next, deciding I might as well pursue my plan even in the disconcerting company of the original Career.

"The girl is vicious," he said without an ounce of hesitation. "Her name is Ellise Beltrane, and she took Neera Salotti's decision to save you as a personal affront. If she keeps her temper from distracting her at some crucial moment, she'll win. The boy is average, but still a threat."

Claudius looked down at me sharply and I realized I'd whimpered at the sound of Neera's name. _Don't think about her,_ I scolded my wayward brain, forcing myself to focus on Claudius' face. When he saw he'd regained my attention, he went on. "Your tributes have more potential than usual, but they don't stand a chance against ours." I already knew that, so the declaration didn't upset me. I was more worried about the fact that compared to Twelve's kids, mine looked like Careers.

Finally, I moved on to the question that had been at the front of my mind since Claudius took my hand back in the viewing room. "Why are you doing this?" I asked, gesturing to my hand on his arm. "You've never met me. You have no reason to look out for me, and certainly no reason to desire me, so what is this?"

He came to a halt, then, turning so he could look me full in the face. "Because it's part of our bargain," he said. "You obviously mean to continue with your impossible plan, so I will honor my side of the deal. This is how to make Head Gamemaker Gallegos leave you in peace."


	10. Motives Fair and Foul

I knew I was gaping in an unflattering manner, and there could easily be cameras even here because this was the Capitol, but I didn't care.

"You wrote me those letters?" I hissed, instinctively lowering my voice although the street was deserted as far as I could see in both directions. Presumably, everyone was out celebrating the beginning of the latest Hunger Games. "You sent me the –"

Claudius clapped a hand over my mouth before I could say the word _armor._ "I know you have more sense than that, girl," he grated, voice harsh in my ear. "We'll talk again once the Games are over and we can go home. You're not going to do it this year." He removed his hand.

"Do what? Win? I'm not _trying_ to win," I hissed back, trying to make out his expression in the darkness between streetlights.

"If you insist on talking even after my warning, at least keep moving," Claudius said, placing a hand at the small of my back and pushing me forward. I glared up at him – would it kill him to be a bit less rough? – but moved in the direction he was pointing us. "You're not going to succeed this year, that's what I meant," he continued. "Felix's girl is out of control. All she could talk about on the train was how the first thing she'd do in the arena was kill District Three's tributes to prove she's nothing like Salotti."

I felt a twinge of regret for my two tributes. "What does that have to do with my plan," I asked anyway. "If she's after mine, Twelve's will be able to escape the bloodbath, at least."

Claudius shook his head, the hand on my back tensing with his frustration. "You don't understand how things work in our district," he said. "Felix told Beltrane – that's the girl – to stay out of the Career alliance. I assume he was trying to make it easier for you to keep Twelve alive. Anyway, she refused. Started ranting about how Salotti was a disgrace to her district and she – Beltrane, not Salotti – was a real Career and intended to act like one."

"So you're saying one of your tributes has gone rogue before she's even gotten into the arena," I scoffed, hiding my dismay beneath a veneer of scorn. _Neera wasn't a disgrace. _"I thought the trainees were supposed to practically worship victors."

"They _are_," Claudius growled. "This one's gone and given herself a big head, though. Convinced herself she's the next Varius de Luca, only she's still planning to use weapons, as far as I know."

"Oh, hell," I sighed. "Can't you do something? Even Varius is afraid to cross you. Scare her back into line."

"I tried. I'll keep trying until the moment she steps onto her platform," he assured me. "That's not what we need to be discussing, though. I have a plan to get Gallegos off your back, but you're going to have to do exactly what I tell you. How are your acting skills?"

"Fair," I replied. "Why, what's the idea?"

"We're going to pretend you're my new love interest. Half the Capitol is scared of me, even though they won't admit it to themselves, let alone anyone else. After I won my Games, the president tried to pull his usual prostitution bullshit, and I killed everyone he _donated_ me to," Claudius said, and I caught my breath. "He tried to have me killed, but all the Peacekeepers come from my district, and they know better than to try to bring me in. He kept trying, though, up until the day he died."

Out of morbid curiosity, I asked, "Why didn't he just poison you like he did with my mentor?"

Claudius chuckled, and the sound sent shivers of fear up my spine. "He tried. I got him before he got me."

I pondered the implications of that sentence for several moments, then choked on nothing as the words struck home. "You…you killed –?"

"Yeah," he said. "Oh, it wasn't just me," he said, perhaps sensing my incredulity. "The son – he's president now – was after his father's job for years, and when he saw the chance to off him without getting his own hands dirty, he jumped on it. The stupid boy should've had me executed as soon as he became president, but he let me live, and until he manages to remedy the situation, I have more power than I know what to do with."

"If the old president couldn't kill you, how can the new one?" I asked.

"Despite his many shortcomings, Snow is smarter than his father. He's been in charge of the Peacekeepers for years, and he has a core group that's loyal to him above anyone else. In the old days, there was something like district unity, a kind of respect that kept them from killing me. These days, half the kids in uniform weren't even alive during my Games, so they have no reason to spare me. Thankfully, Snow hasn't figured that out yet. Still, it's only a matter of time, which is why I chose this year to mentor again, and why I'm willing to risk supporting your cause."

"Then why tell Varius you wouldn't help me?"

Claudius laughed again. "Didn't want the kid thinking I was going soft in my old age," he replied shortly. He sighed, sobering. "I feel like our whole district is getting weak, though. I built the training system – yeah, I created the Careers," he said, catching my horrified expression. "Anyway, I started it, but Vega ran in until she died, and everything's been downhill since."

Vega, I recalled, was the victor from Two who fell between Claudius and Varius, the only female victor from that district besides Allison. _Neera, _my mind whispered traitorously, _Neera should have been the third female victor from District Two, but she died, died saving you…_

"Believe me," Claudius continued, disrupting my train of thought. "I'm not helping you out of the kindness of my heart." He laughed so coldly that I wondered if he _had_ a heart. "I'm willing to foster rebellion with you because my district is a pale shadow of its former self, and if we're not the undisputed champions of the Games, I don't want there to be Games at all."

When Claudius had seen me safely to the door of the building where the tributes would be living until the Games, he nodded a goodbye and vanished back into the darkness. I stood staring after him for nearly a minute before I collected myself enough to key the door open and go inside.

_Can I work with someone like that? _I wondered. _We have the same goal, but his reasons are so dramatically wrong that I feel dirty just speaking to him. _

An even worse thought struck me as I stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the third floor. _How am I any better than him? At least he has pride in his district. I'm trying to make my own tributes lose in the name of some half-baked scheme that probably won't even work._

Then the elevator door chimed open and I found myself nose-to-nose with a monumentally surprised Allison. "Where the hell have you been?" she snarled, grabbing me by the front of my dress and hauling me bodily from the elevator. "I was about to go looking for you!" I noticed the gleam of a knife in the hand that wasn't clenched under my chin and my eyes widened involuntarily.

"Sorry, I got caught talking to Claudius after the parade ended, so he walked me home," I told her, breathing deeply and massaging my throat after she set me down. "Claudius told Felix he'd be with me, so I assumed you knew."

"No, Felix is celebrating his return to the Capitol by locking himself in his apartment with all the lights off and only a bottle of whiskey for company," she informed me. "Just because his tribute is out of control is no reason to abandon her completely…" she trailed off, looking at me with narrowed eyes. "Did you say you were with _Claudius_?"

"Yes," I told her, forcing both my voice and emotions back into their normal register. "He's the one who sent me the letters and stuff, and he has a plan to get rid of Gallegos." Only when Allison's eyes lit up did I realize my phrasing had been ambiguous at best, and I rushed to clarify. "Get him to leave me alone, I mean, not kill him. I have to pretend to be in a relationship with Claudius."

Allison smirked even more widely than usual. "Well, there are worse ideas, I'm sure. I can't think of any, but they must exist. At least Neera was only two years older than you. Claudius is more than twice your age. Never mind that he's a Career and you're…you."

"That would be a valid concern if this were a real relationship, but it's not," I reminded her. "This is the Capitol. There are odder pairs – I mean, look at Varius and Theta. All we have to do is convince everyone I'm his, and Gallegos will be too scared to come near me. Besides, I have lots of practice acting friendly toward Careers."

She narrowed her eyes, to ask another uncomfortable question, I was sure, but my tributes appeared the hall behind her, rendering further conversation impossible.

"What is _she_ doing here?" Dane demanded, pointing an accusatory finger at Allison. "She's a Career. Why can't she stay on her own floor?"

"She's my friend," I told him sharply. "Also, she'll help you with the strength training I told you about earlier," I added, shooting Allison a triumphant smile. _There, that'll teach her to make fun of my imaginary relationship._ She frowned, but ushered the kids into the other room and began demonstrating stretches.

I took the opportunity to sit down in front of the TV, switching it to the channel where Tesla Monogram, currently sporting a three-piece suit patterned after some exotic black-and-white animal, was giving a rundown of the current odds on the Games. Unsurprisingly, Districts One, Two and Four topped the list of favorites, with my tributes near the bottom, followed by Twelve's.

Idly, I watched Allison leading Kirstin and Dane in a less-complicated version of her nightly routine as I returned to my inner debate about working with Claudius. I would do it; there was no question of that. Much as I hated to admit it, I'd do almost anything to get the head gamemaker off my back. Besides, if there was one thing I could count on when it came to Careers, it was their twisted sense of honor. Claudius was enough like Neera and Varius that I knew he wouldn't hurt me, not once he'd invested this much effort in keeping me safe.

I ran my fingers over the smooth surface of my angel necklace, wishing I didn't still feel like I was betraying my district.

"How're you doing?" Allison asked the next morning after Dane and Kirstin had departed for training. The pair had detailed instructions to befriend the boy and girl from District Twelve and avoid all the Careers.

I exhaled loudly. "Been better," I admitted. "Between knowing I have to send those kids into the arena to die and Claudius saying that I'm not going to get a victor for Twelve this year, I'm not feeling like such a hotshot rebel, you know?"

She nodded. "Much as I hate to say it, he's probably right about Beltrane. She was one of those kids who always trooped along behind Neera, practically worshipped the ground she walked on. Neera never noticed, of course, she was too caught up in her training. To Beltrane, Neera's intentional loss was like a personal affront. Now she'll do anything to succeed where, in her mind, Neera failed."

_I hate Careers,_ I thought tiredly, though I knew that type of generalization wasn't fair.

I leaned my forehead against Allison's shoulder and mumbled, "Why couldn't it have been your year to mentor?"

"Hey, if the girl won't listen to Claudius, there's no way she'd back down because I asked nicely," Allison said.

"And since when do you ask nicely?" I shot back, sitting up straight again.

"Good point. Still, trust me when you say that this one's not something I can fix."

When training ended and my tributes came back upstairs, Claudius stepped off the elevator with them. He strode forward and took me in his arms, and I barely remembered that we were in a pretend relationship in time to play along.

"Memorie," he murmured, and I wanted to congratulate him on sounding so much like he was really in love.

"Claudius," I acknowledged, stepping back after what I deemed a believable interval. "What brings you here?"

"Do I need a reason to visit you?" he asked. The smile that followed looked decidedly unnatural on his stony face, and I decided to warn him against smiling the next time we were in private.

"Memorie, why is he here?" Kirstin asked, and I was forcibly reminded of the tributes' presence. Dane was dividing his glares equally between Claudius and Allison.

I reached down and threaded my fingers through Claudius', marveling again at the size of his hands. "This is Claudius, another friend," I said defensively, and immediately winced. What was I supposed to call him, though? My boyfriend? I doubted that would be sufficient to make Gallegos back off, and we hadn't had time to discuss the details of our false relationship last night.

"I'd say we're a bit more than friends, dear," Claudius said easily, trying out that awful smile again. I hid my grimace beneath a rather manic grin, which I fixed on Kirstin and Dane.

"Ah, right. Of course. At any rate, we were just leaving. You can tell me how training went when I get back. In the meantime, do your stretches with Allison," I told them.

"But we just spent the whole day training!" Dane protested.

Claudius fixed Dane with a truly terrifying glare. "You're lucky you aren't my tribute," he said brusquely. "I'd make you spend the entire night sparring if you spoke to me like that." And he swept toward the elevator, dragging me with him.

Once the doors slid shut behind us, I dropped Claudius' hand like it was on fire. "Okay, let's figure some things out right now," I said. "What exactly is the nature of our supposed relationship?"

"For now, we're simply a mutually interested couple," he replied. "As soon as we can make it look realistic, we'll up the ante. Move in together, maybe. Can you handle that?"

"You're sure this will make Gallegos leave me alone?" I asked. He nodded. "Then yeah, I can handle it. Don't you think you're taking this a bit far, though? All I have to do is help Twelve win. You're risking everything."

Claudius shrugged minutely. "I told you, I'm dead anyway as soon as Snow figures out the Peacekeepers are loyal to him, not District Two. I intend to do some good before I reach my expiration date." That was a morbid outlook, but I supposed Careers didn't become Careers by cowering in the face of death.

He guided me out of the elevator and toward the glass double doors the led out to the street. "Where are we going?" I asked.

"Just walking," he replied. "I haven't been here in years, so I'm not sure which buildings are bugged. I know for a fact the Training Center and the victors' apartments are, and it's safe to say the holding cells are wired too. That's what we call the rooms where the tributes stay before they go into the arena. Sorry if that offends your delicate sensibilities," he added.

I elected not to dignify that with a response. "What about buildings in the districts? Chard and Felix seemed pretty sure their homes weren't bugged, and everyone acts like my apartment is safe."

"Allison swept your apartment for listening devices and destroyed all the ones she found," Claudius said. "I assume the other victors did the same. That doesn't mean you should drop your guard. If anyone from the Capitol is allowed to be alone in your apartment for even a few minutes, you should do another scan. Better yet, I'll do it."

_Which part of this is an act?_ I wondered. _And how much is real? One second, he's the picture of a bloodthirsty Career, and the next, he's talking about protecting me as though it were second nature._ I looked up at him as I'd done the previous night, but the sunlight did nothing to render his face less inscrutable. Then I thought, _Maybe they go together, the violence and the protectiveness. Neera was the best bodyguard anyone could ask for, Allison stayed with me to make sure I wouldn't kill myself, and even Varius acts like he's shielding Theta from all the bad things in the world._

Because it was evening, the sidewalks were lined with people, most sporting outlandish clothing and eye-wrenching color combinations. Claudius secured my hand in the crook of his elbow again, and I noticed that people were looking at us as we passed. Like everything else, this casual walk was actually a calculated maneuver on Claudius' part.

"You're not like the other Careers," I said, biting my tongue immediately afterward because I'd intended to keep that observation to myself.

"I wasn't a Career in the truest sense of the word, if that's what you mean," Claudius agreed warily. "I never trained for my Games. I was Reaped; I didn't volunteer. But I won, and that's what matters."

That wasn't what I'd meant at all, but his response was interesting anyway. I intended to share his words with Allison, because surely if Claudius considered winning the Games the true mark of a Career, then she would have to stop considering herself a failure because of her training score.

"Does that mean Neera wasn't a real Career in your eyes?" I asked guardedly, not sure myself what I wanted the answer to be. "She didn't win the Games."

"Yes, she did," Claudius replied. "Oh, the idiots here have their heads shoved too far up their asses to see it, but she won. Everyone in the Capitol – down to Gallegos and Snow themselves, mind you – they all think you got extraordinarily lucky, nothing more. Half the districts probably think the same. They're saying you seduced Salotti and she miscalculated badly enough during the fight with her district partner that you ended up the only one alive. Anyone who's ever trained in Two knows better."

That was good to know. I'd been operating under the assumption that no one but Varius and Allison understood the extent of Neera's plans, and then only because Varius had nearly been her father and Allison was sharper than other Careers.

Even that wasn't entirely true anymore, though. Claudius had to be a genius at manipulation, a master of blackmail and other underhanded dealings, to have pulled this off. He had _assassinated_ _a_ _president_, for shit's sake, and lived to tell the tale. It would be doing him a disservice to assume he was unintelligent.

_And it would be risky, _I reminded myself. Allison scolded me for being too willing to trust people I didn't know, and I thought she was right. That had saved me in the arena and again in the hospital, when I'd accepted Varius as a surrogate mentor of sorts, but it could easily get me killed now.

Claudius was dangerous in ways I couldn't even imagine. He commanded the loyalty of the victors from his district, and though they'd acted without him in joining my cause, I had no doubt they'd desert me at once if he issued an ultimatum. He had power in the Capitol, too, and could draw on that power to have me killed if he tired of our deception. Worst of all, his reason for aiding me seemed spurious at best, even taking into consideration the seriousness with which District Two regarded matters of honor and duty.

"_If we're not the undisputed champions of the Games, I don't want there to be Games at all." _Claudius' words came back to me as clearly as the nightmare in which he'd nearly drowned me in his blood, and I shuddered at the combination of the two memories.

"Are you cold?" he asked, feigning solicitousness.

"A little," I replied, and he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over my shoulder. If anything, the gesture drew more eyes to us, and I gave him a surreptitious smile of approval. "How long before Gallegos hears about us?" I asked, making sure to keep the smile in place so passersby would assume we were discussing something frivolous.

"If he hasn't heard by the end of the day, I'll be surprised," Claudius said. I sighed and leaned more heavily on his supporting arm, not entirely faking my warm feelings.


	11. Found Wanting

As Claudius had predicted, our "blossoming love affair," as one television anchor termed it, was the focus of that night's news, superseding even footage of the tributes' first day of training. The coverage faded somewhat over the course of the week, however, so that by the day of the tributes' individual sessions, even Tesla Monogram was mostly over the novelty of two victors becoming a couple.

I had to be thankful for such small favors, because both my tributes and the pair from Twelve were beginning to look like an unmitigated disaster. Mentors weren't allowed in the Training Center, of course, so I was going mostly on hearsay and intuition, but I had every confidence the scores the Gamemakers announced at the end of the day would support my gut feeling.

Dane had repeatedly proven himself belligerent and unreasonable, going so far as to throw a punch at me when I suggested he wasn't devoting adequate attention to the knot-tying lesson Allison was giving that night. I hadn't seen the outburst coming, but Allison had. She'd caught the boy's fist in her outstretched palm, sending him to his knees with a twist of her arm. He'd struggled and cursed, but she'd merely stared at him implacably until he went still. He hadn't tried to harm me since, and he avoided Allison entirely.

Kirstin continued to prove her intelligence, but the reality of her situation seemed to be wearing on her nerves as the week progressed. She emerged from her suite in the morning with dark circles under her eyes, and even a cursory glance told me she was losing weight, not gaining it. Her accounts of the other tributes were detailed, though, for which I was deeply grateful.

According to my tributes, the boy and girl from Twelve had been reluctant to form an alliance, but had eventually agreed to do so, in part because they were, as I'd suspected, rudderless without a mentor. The boy, Beem, was sixteen, and was apparently distantly related to the girl, whose name I was continually forgetting. From what I'd seen during their Reaping, both were chronically underfed, but seemed to possess a wiry strength that gave me hope for their odds against the Careers.

The elevator chimed, doors opening to reveal Dane.

"How was your individual session? Do you think it went well?" I asked anxiously, getting to my feet as he walked in.

He gave a noncommittal shrug. "S'okay, I guess. Did some stuff with the knives and axes." Without bothering to elaborate, he shambled off in the direction of his suite, leaving me standing there like an idiot. I sank back onto the couch beside Allison, who was glaring at the boy's retreating back.

"I'm not going to be sad to see that one go," she said, not bothering to lower her voice even a little. Dane's shoulders tensed; he'd obviously heard. A moment later, he turned the corner into his bedroom and vanished from sight.

"Hey," I snapped, making my tone harsh even though a secret, guilty part of me shared the sentiment. "He is a _human being_, Allison. It doesn't matter if you dislike him on a personal level; you can't just say you're looking forward to someone's death."

She made a huffing sound and slumped against the cushions, refocusing her eyes on the television. We sat in uncomfortable silence for another twenty minutes, waiting for Kirstin to arrive.

When the elevator doors opened, I took one look at the girl's tearstained face and went to her side, putting an arm around her shoulders comfortingly. "Are you all right?" I asked gently. "What happened?"

"The Head Gamemaker," she sobbed, and I felt my chest constrict painfully. _If he harmed this girl, I might take Allison up on her offer to kill him._ "He made fun of me the whole time I was in the training room for my session," she continued, and I permitted myself to relax. On the grand scale of things, it could've been much worse. Still, I should have thought to warn my tributes that Gallegos might have it in for them.

"I'm sorry," I told Kirstin, leading her to the couch and offering her my vacant seat. "It had nothing to do with you, I promise. You could've been the next Allison Romano and he would have said bad things. He has a grudge against me, and like the child he is, he's unleashing his frustrations on you." I noticed my tribute shot Allison a smile when I said her name, and Allison actually grinned back.

"She's right, you know," Allison said, scooting over to make room for me on the couch. "I only got an eight during training, and I always suspected it was because Felix had insulted the Head Gamemaker's hat during his Victory Ceremony the year before."

I raised an eyebrow at Allison over Kirstin's head. If that was true, it was news to me. Allison was notoriously bitter about her low score, but from her comments in the past, I'd gotten the impression she thought she hadn't deserved a higher one.

"See, Memorie didn't even know that," Allison informed Kristin, gesturing to make the younger girl aware of the puzzlement on my face. Truth or not, that evoked a wider smile from the redhead, and I sighed in appreciation, relaxing for the first time all day.

We watched TV until we were bored, killing time until the scores were announced in the evening. Eventually, Allison declared that if she sat still for one more minute, she'd spontaneously combust, so she and Kirstin cleared a space and began their nightly routine a few hours early. Neither, I noticed, suggested asking Dane to join them, and I didn't pursue the subject.

An hour before the scores were due to be broadcast, the elevator swooshed open, making me leap up in surprise. A blonde Avox stood there, her face nearly hidden behind an enormous spray of yellow flowers I couldn't name. Wordlessly – of course – she handed them to me, and the glass vase in which they rested was so much heavier than I'd anticipated that I nearly dropped the whole thing.

As usual, Allison was there to save me from catastrophe, snatching the bouquet from my hands before I could utter a word. I thanked the Avox, who bowed and left as quietly as she had arrived.

"I wonder who these could be from," taunted Allison, her singsong voice telling me exactly who she thought had sent them. I caught sight of a white envelope nestled between the stems and extracted it, absently sucking my thumb where I'd snagged it on a particularly sharp thorn.

_My dearest Memorie,_ I read, and barely managed not to choke by reminding myself Claudius had probably anticipated this correspondence being intercepted and read by numerous Capitol reporters too nosy for their own good. This was an excellent way to further the deception in an oblique way, I was willing to admit. I should've thought of it myself.

_I hope this finds you well, _the letter continued, and I held back my snort with difficulty. He'd seen me less than a day ago; _of_ _course_ I was well.

_Do you like the flowers?_ I read. _I chose these because their color reminded me that you light my world just as District Five illuminates our glorious Capitol. May they favor your home as the color yellow favors your radiance. Yours, Claudius. _

Wordlessly, I passed the slip of paper to Allison, and was gratified when she choked on the mouthful of water she'd just taken, spraying droplets across the kitchen. Kirstin, who had come over to see what all the fuss was about, pounded her helpfully on the back until her coughs subsided.

"Coming on a little strong, isn't he?" Allison managed finally, handing the letter back to me. I shook my head; she hadn't unraveled the message like I had. Mindful of Claudius' warning that the rooms here were probably wired for sound at the very least, I picked up a pencil from the counter.

"Why are there nineteen flowers?" Kirstin asked suddenly, making me pause with the tip of the pencil a few millimeters above the note from Claudius. "I mean, a dozen is traditional, and twenty would make sense, but nineteen? Someone at the shop must've miscounted."

Aloud, I said, "Hm, you're probably right. How very unprofessional," while inside, I smiled to myself, adding a line to the scribbles I intended to make on the paper in front of me. When I was finished writing, I passed the page back to Allison, who looked at it, first frowning, then with the light of comprehension in her eyes.

_District 5. Nineteen flowers. Yellow. _I'd written on the first line. Below that, lining up with the words I'd written first, the paper said _District 5. Nineteenth Games. Canary. _

I was a bit insulted that Claudius had felt it necessary to reinforce his message three times, the symbolic equivalent of using a sledgehammer where a chisel would have sufficed. Obviously, he wanted me to know that Canary Chenoweth, who had become District Five's first victor after winning the nineteenth Hunger Games, had joined our cause. I might not have noticed the unusual number of flowers without Kirstin's observation, but the written message would've been more than adequate, I was sure. I'd have sharp words for Claudius the next time I saw him.

In the meantime, we'd been quiet too long and Kirstin was starting to look at us suspiciously. I tossed the note carelessly onto the counter beside the vase of flowers and turned back toward the living room, calling, "Well, he's certainly more demonstrative than I'd expected, but I suppose the flowers are nice." Allison and Kirstin joined me a second later, and we buried the tense moment beneath disparaging jokes about men in general.

A short while later, the television lit up with a garish rendition of Tesla Monogram's face, followed by the announcement that the Head Gamemaker was ready to announce this year's training scores. Dane, perhaps having heard the telltale music coming from the TV, finally condescended to join us, sitting on the arm of the couch in a way that made me wish Theta were here to scold him.

The boy from One got a ten, which made Allison scowl darkly. His district partner got an eight. The boy from Two got a ten, and the girl, Ellise Beltrane, got an eleven. _One more step in her plan to prove she's Neera 2.0, _I thought bitterly.

Dane, to my intense annoyance, got a seven. True to character, he got up and did an obnoxious swaggering dance around the kitchen before rejoining us in time to see Kirstin's score, a three. Kirstin's face crumpled in dismay, and Allison and I each put an arm around her shoulders.

"Remember, Gallegos is doing this to get back at me, not because you're bad," I told her. "Besides, he gave me a _one_. No one ever gets a one!" I pulled a face, making the others laugh, though I got the distinct impression Dane was laughing at me, not with me.

Sure enough, Dane sneered rudely at me, saying, "That's because you couldn't even _walk_. I think Troy Gallegos was generous not to give you a zero."

I ground my back teeth, but managed to produce what I thought was a fairly believable laugh. "I almost wish he had," I said. "Imagine how embarrassed he'd feel, having given the eventual victor such an atrocious score!"

Allison, less willing to tolerate Dane's attitude, merely snapped, "There's no such thing as a zero in training. It's between one and twelve. And if you think for a second that a seven is going to be enough to protect you from the Careers, you'd better think again."

"Enough, Allison," I said quellingly, not in the mood to referee a shouting match at the moment. Anyway, I'd meant what I'd said to her earlier: Dane was a person, and however deplorable his behavior, this was likely to be one of the last days of his life, so there was no reason to make him miserable.

I focused my attention on the television, where the announcer was awarding nines to both tributes from Four. I smiled, thinking that Barra would be pleased. The other scores were similar to those I remembered from my own Games, minus the high score for the girl from Ten. This year, the female tribute from that district got an unremarkable four. I held my breath when the picture of Beem, the boy from Twelve appeared.

When his score appeared, I let out a small sound of dismay. He'd only gotten a five! How was I supposed to work with that? The girl, whose name was Elza – _Elza, Elza, _I repeated to myself, determined to commit it to memory this time – did slightly better, receiving a six. Still, that wasn't enough to make me remotely optimistic about either of them defeating the Careers, even with illicit help from the control room.

Theta arrived half an hour later, shortly after Kirstin and Dane had retired to their respective rooms. To my surprise, Theta was alone.

"Where'd you manage to lose Lover Boy?" Allison asked sarcastically, slurping the protein shake she was drinking with a deliberate stare at Theta.

She sniffed, patting her lime green curls ostentatiously. "Varius is meeting with some of the other victors," she announced, carefully addressing the comment to me alone. Allison smirked at her anyway, and I caught the hint of a blush beneath Theta's makeup. "Claudius called him, apparently, and said he had important information to share. I thought I'd come along ahead to discuss our strategy for the interviews tomorrow."

"Bloody interviews," Allison grunted, levering herself off the couch. "It was bad enough sitting through my own. If you don't mind, I'm going home." She dropped her empty cup in the garbage and signaled the elevator, giving us no opportunity to object.

When she'd gone, Theta said, "I don't know how you tolerate her, dear. She's just so…ill-mannered. And she does it on purpose, you know. To think!"

I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second, wishing Varius had accompanied Theta after all. "Well, she stopped Dane from breaking my nose earlier, so I can't say I dislike having her around," I said wryly.

"The little beast! He didn't!" Theta exclaimed, her righteous outrage drowning the remains of the annoyance with Allison, exactly as I'd intended. "My goodness," she said, diverted by the sight of the flowers in the kitchen. "How lovely! Who sent you those?"

_Thank goodness for the short attention spans of Capitol escorts_, I thought. "Those are from Claudius," I told her. "He had them delivered a few hours ago. Aren't they beautiful?"

To my surprise, Theta frowned at me reprovingly, adopting a motherly tone I'd thought beyond her. "Yes, I did see the stories on the news, but I'd hoped it was just Tesla blowing things out of proportion," she said. "I must say, I don't think a relationship with Claudius Blaze is a wise idea, dear. Forming alliances is one thing, but this is taking it too far."

"What's wrong with Claudius?" I asked curiously. I'd expected her to support the relationship even without knowing the real reason behind it. For one thing, Claudius was the closest thing I'd seen to someone from outside the Capitol who would meet with Theta's stringent behavioral standards.

"Well," Theta fluttered, "He's a bit old for you, don't you think? In the Capitol, a twenty-year age gap is nothing, but you from the districts don't live as long as we do. By that standard, he's practically elderly. He might have wrinkles," she finished, shuddering elaborately.

"Claudius is forty years old," I informed her. "And he doesn't have wrinkles. Besides, he's a very intelligent man." That was the only compliment I'd been able to think of that would be entirely truthful.

Theta wasn't finished yet, apparently. "He has _scars_, Memorie," she hissed, lowering her voice as if concealing some dreadful secret from the public. "He wouldn't let his prep team remove after he got out of the arena," she went on. "I heard all about it from my friend. She works in the Leisure Building, which is right next to the Remake Center, and she said she heard him _shouting_ at his poor stylists. Can you imagine? They were only trying to help." She sounded scandalized.

"I have scars," I reminded Theta, gesturing to my lip and back, where the marks from Gallegos' whip were still visible in just the right light.

"Yes, dear, but that's not the same at all," Theta assured me, though I noticed she didn't point out where exactly the differences lay. I debated simply letting Theta in on the secret of our relationship – its complete falsity – but Claudius had instructed me to share that information with no one besides the victors from his district. So far, I'd only gotten around to telling Allison, but I assumed he'd tell Varius and Felix himself in the course of tonight's meeting.

I hoped he'd eventually become more flexible, allowing me to at least tell all the members of our little conspiracy, because I already knew Barra and Mags would have some choice jibes for me. Then again, Barra had won the year after Claudius, so maybe I was safe from being informed Claudius was too old for me. They had to be nearly the same age.

"Anyway," I said, bringing us back to topic, "You wanted to discuss the interviews?"

"Yes, of course," said Theta. "I can already tell Dane is going to want to take the sullen and dangerous approach, but we need to convince him that only works for Careers."

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

"Here in the Capitol, people don't have much respect for the districts," Theta began apologetically. _Really? I hadn't noticed, _I thought sardonically, waiting for her to go on. "And what respect they do have is directed toward the Career districts for their success in the Hunger Games. If someone from one of the outlying districts tries act like a Career, no one will take him seriously. Worse, they'll probably dislike him outright, and he'll never get any sponsors."

I had to literally bite my tongue to avoid screaming "Yes, idiot woman, that's what we want! We need people to sponsor District Twelve, not District Three!" If the apartment was bugged, that kind of outburst would draw all sorts of unwanted attention. I settled for nodding politely.

"So, what about Kirstin? What angle do you think would be best for her?" I asked Theta, trying to steer the conversation in a safer direction.

"She's too innocent to pull off sexy, even if she'll be pretty in a few more years," Theta said. _She won't be alive in a few more _days, I wanted to remind her. "I'm sure she could manage likeable, but I don't think she can make jokes like you did. And I don't want to push too hard, or she might do something entirely awful like burst into tears on stage."

"No, we can't have that." My sarcasm must've gone over Theta's head, because she gave me an encouraging smile. _It's moments like this when I wonder what Varius was thinking, letting her in on our secret._

"Well, I'll make a final decision before morning," Theta said. "Who do you want to start with, Kirstin or Dane?"

"Kirstin, if you don't mind. If I start with Dane, I'll be a short-tempered wreck by the time I get to Kirstin. You have a better hold over yourself, I'm sure."

Theta gave me a smirk so reminiscent of Allison that I raised a single eyebrow before I could stop myself. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing, Memorie. Still, flattery will get you everywhere. You may have the girl first."

"Glad that's settled," said a sarcastic voice from the direction of the stairs. I spun, relaxing only when I saw that the voice belonged to Varius. Claudius, looking like an ominous shadow, loomed at Varius' shoulder. "Memorie, Theta," Varius said, nodding a greeting to each of us.

Claudius pushed Varius aside, moving with single-minded focus toward the kitchen. "I see you received my flowers," he said. "Do you like them?"

"Very much," I responded. "How did you find them?" What I really wanted to know, but couldn't ask, was how he'd gotten Five's notoriously belligerent victor to agree to work with us.

"Hinge recommended them to me," Claudius murmured, coming to stand by my side. He put an arm around my waist, and I had to endure Varius' amused smile and Theta's disapproving frown even though I knew we technically didn't need to perpetuate the ruse of our relationship in private.

And what did that mean? _Hinge recommended them…_ He obviously meant that Hinge and played some part in forging the new alliance with Five, but he couldn't be more specific in case ours weren't the only ears listening at the moment. For that matter, since when was Hinge lucid enough to recommend anything?

"I'll visit you tomorrow after the interviews," Claudius told me. "Tomorrow's the last day before the Games. Are you going to be all right?"

There he went again, saying the exact opposite of what I expected. I'd have liked to remind him that I didn't appreciate this blurring of the lines between real and not real, but I couldn't, because the Capitol would overhear that too.

Instead, I said, "I'm fine. And thank you for the flowers. They're beautiful."


	12. Waiting for Sunrise

"Look into my eyes, Tesla. What do you see? I'll tell you. It's death. Oh, not for you or any of my other Capitol friends, but for these pitiful children."

Even though I wasn't terribly near the stage, Ellise Beltrane's threat made me flinch. I glanced sideways, watching the corners of Claudius' mouth turn down, which for him was the equivalent of a normal man hurling crockery across the room. "Wish I could spar her myself," he growled, catching the look I'd given him. "Knock her down a peg or ten. Felix always went too easy on her."

"I doubt that," I replied, taking his hand between both of mine. We were in public, after all – assuming the worst seats in the crowd watching the tribute interviews counted as such – so it was prudent to maintain our deception. "Your idea of going easy is letting your trainees have one free day a month. She'd be this way regardless of who trained her, I think."

Claudius' smile had a dark edge when he looked down at me. "Your little friend never told you what kind of conditioning we use on our trainees, did she? She never wanted you to know what she really was, the things she'd seen, done, been through…"

"What matters is what she did at the end," I told him, withdrawing my hands from his grasp. "She saved my life. She did it to make a point: these Games are wrong." Claudius chose not to respond, so I looked back at the stage, where Andreas Vincente, Ellise's district partner, was waving to the crowd. I had time to listen to a few moments of his inane comments – the usual _I'll win, they'll die _spiel – before Claudius gripped me by the elbow, drawing me out of my seat. Behind us, Capitolians complained that we were blocking their view, but Claudius dragged me down the row of mentors before anyone become more than mildly annoyed.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked, once we were far enough away that the crowd wouldn't overhear. "Kirstin's up next, I have to be here!"

"No, you don't," he whispered, still dragging me faster than I could walk on my own. I broke into a jog to keep up. "This is the best chance we're going to get to talk with no one listening until the Games are over. Did you understand the message I sent with the flowers?"

"District Five is with us, right?" I asked, seeking confirmation.

"Yes. Hinge convinced that girl, Chenoweth, to help us. God knows how he managed to get his point across, addled as his brain is these days, but he talked her into it," Claudius replied. "I didn't think she'd join us at all. Five and Six hate Careers more than anyone except maybe Twelve."

"Will she help us during the Games?" Glad as I was to have another supporter, it wouldn't mean anything unless she was willing to take concrete action.

"Says there not much she can do this time around," Claudius told me. "Neither of her tributes could even pose a threat to Twelve this year, so she won't have sponsor money to contribute."

I managed to stifle my disappointment, saying, "That's all right. We can still do this."

Claudius spun me around, gripping my chin to make me look him in the eye. We were in a deserted avenue between two towering glass-sided buildings, but I still disliked that he was acting outside the parameters of our supposed relationship. There could be cameras. "Do you ever _listen_, girl?" he growled. "You're not going to win this year. You saw Beltrane onstage a second ago. Does that look like the face of a dead person to you?"

"No, but Neera was the same during her interview," I said, narrowing my eyes at him. "I'm not giving up until I see both Twelve's tributes dead on the ground."

"I'm sure that can be arranged," he said, his face mere inches from mine. I raised my chin in defiance, turning my narrowed eyes into an expression of languid insolence. His face darkened in response, and I saw for the hundredth time why even Varius stepped lightly around him.

"Allison told me you Careers win the Games by refusing to entertain the notion of defeat," I told him. "Why should this be any different?"

"We also train for the better part of our lives to prepare for the arena," he reminded me. "None of us trained for this. I'm the closest thing you've got to a politician, and my version of politics involves poison and a mace, not necessarily in that order."

I leaned my head against the wall and laughed long and loud, the way I hadn't since before I'd been Reaped. Then I forced myself to stop, because I had a feeling if I went on much longer, I'd be crying instead. "No, Claudius, that's just the kind of politics the Capitol needs. And there's no one I'd rather have on my side than you. We're going to make a killer team."

He slid a hand around to cradle the back of my head, pulling me away from the building, toward him. "All right, Renwick. As long as you mean that literally, we may be in business."

"Now, was there some reason you dragged me away from my own tributes' interviews, or did you just want to tell me about Canary?" I asked, pulling my head away but giving him my hand in trade.

"Something else," he said. "Come to my apartment with me. I have something for you." The frisson of fear that worked its way down my spine was caused by his tone, not his words, so I followed. I was beginning to wonder if the Games had unhinged Claudius after all. He leapt between anger and humor with an intensity more alarming than Allison's, besides which I was a bit afraid he was forgetting our relationship was a ruse.

His apartment was in Victor's Tower like mine, but on the ground floor. It was also close to two separate exits, so I doubted he'd chosen the rooms for their substandard view alone. Claudius ushered me inside, and I moved to take a seat in a large, comfortable-looking armchair in the sitting room.

"No, not that one," he snapped, and I started guiltily upright. "Knockout cocktail on needles in the cushion," he explained, leaving me to stare in horror at the innocent-looking chair while he moved deeper into the suite. _What kind of person booby-traps the furniture in his own home?_ I wondered. My mind supplied its own answer. _Claudius Blaze, that's who._

The man himself returned a moment later, emerging from the still-dark hallway with the barest whisper of shoes on carpet. He led me back out of the building without saying a word, and when we were in the alley outside, he paused. "Here," he said, holding out a bare-bladed knife in one hand and the sheath for it in the other. "I heard you were the only victor without a weapon, so I thought I'd do something to remedy that."

I looked at him blankly, saying nothing for so long he lowered his hands and began to frown. "Did you watch my Games?" I asked. "I won't hurt another person."

"That was ridiculous when you were in the arena, and it's even worse now," he said. "Think of it this way, if it'll appease your conscience: anyone who attacks you now deserves to be hurt. In the arena, those were innocent children, so you didn't want to kill them. Here, in a civilized setting, self-defense in the event of an assault is nothing to feel guilty about."

"A civilized setting, right," I snorted. "We _are_ talking about Panem, yes?"

He smiled down at me. "I see your point. I hope you see mine as well. Will you take the knife?"

"Yeah," I said. I held my hands out to accept the weapon – I still wasn't sure I'd use the thing, but it seemed prudent to take it and avoid making a scene – but he pushed them away.

"It goes on your leg, here," he informed me, bending to brush my right calf with his fingertips. "You can carry it elsewhere if you're wearing clothes that won't cover it, but the sheath I brought you is for this. May I?" When I nodded, he knelt at my feet, securing the knife in place with deft fingers. The dress I was wearing fell to my ankles, so the knife would be hidden, barring any sudden decision on my part to try out Allison's calisthenics routine.

Claudius got to his feet, brushing absently at the knee of his suit where it had rested on the ground. "Make sure you don't pull that thing where anyone can see it and report you," he cautioned. I opened my mouth to protest that _of course _I wouldn't, and did he think I was an idiot? but he continued before I could. "Judging from the commotion, I'd say the interviews are over. Go find your tributes. I'll see you in the control room tomorrow afternoon."

"Well, what do you think? Did we do a good job in our interviews?" Kirstin asked nervously, shifting from foot to foot in the elevator as she looked at me with wide, worried eyes.

"Your interview was excellent, dear," Theta assured her. I breathed a sigh of relief at the well-timed interruption. "And so was yours, Dane."

The boy grunted in response to her compliment, and I frowned reprovingly at him. He either didn't see or didn't care, because he continued to scowl at Theta, scuffing the floor with the edge of his shoe. As soon as the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened, Dane vanished in the direction of his bedroom, shedding his suit coat as he went.

Theta went to the kitchen and ordered some kind of yellowish drink from the hole in the wall. "They really were fantastic, dear, wouldn't you say?" she asked. I glanced over my shoulder to determine whether Kirstin had gone to her room yet. She had, and I looked back at Theta.

"I didn't see anything after Andreas Vincente's interview," I admitted ruefully. Theta's eyebrows shot up, and her disapproval didn't lessen at all when I said, "Claudius wanted to speak with me in private."

"Oh, I bet he did," she said sardonically, every word dripping with implications against the older victor's character.

_This is getting tiresome. Who made the rule that we couldn't tell anyone except Two's victors about our fake relationship? Right, Claudius._ "Nothing like that, Theta. He was just making sure I liked the flowers." As I spoke, I raised the hem of my dress to show her my new knife. She looked suitably impressed.

"I'll take your word for it, dear," she said, and I was glad she was intelligent enough not to say anything about the knife aloud. "Anyway, it's late, so I think I'd better get going. I'll see you in the morning. Or sometime before countdown, anyway. I'm going to have a drink with some of the other escorts tonight, and I have a feeling we're going to get in late."

"Goodnight," I told her. I sat on the couch and flipped the TV on, hoping to catch a rerun of the interviews I'd missed. I must've fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, I was sprawled sideways on the arm of the couch with crick in my neck and a million wrinkles in my dress.

Beside me, the couch sank under someone's weight, and I pushed myself upright, blinking in the brightness. "What are you doing awake?" I asked Kirstin, who sat there, her red hair tangled and her eyes red and swollen. "You should get some rest. You'll need all the energy you can get tomorrow."

And that was exactly the wrong thing to say – I knew that even before Kirstin burst into tears, sobbing so hard her shoulders began to shake. "I'm going to die tomorrow," she whispered, her voice quavering. "It's not fair. Why was I chosen? I want to live!"

I scooted closer and took her in my arms, my heart breaking because I couldn't do anything to save her. Worse, there was a good possibility I would have to directly hinder her at some point during these Games, when any hindrance could spell death. I blinked back my own tears, because this girl needed me to be strong, to comfort her even though I felt like being comforted myself.

Neera had been strong for me. Now I would be strong for Kirstin.

"It's going to be okay," I murmured, smoothing her hair away from her face. "Everything will be fine. I know it's unfair and terrifying and awful, but all you can do is try your hardest." My words were empty, worse than empty, but I hoped the sound of my voice would soothe her. It didn't matter what I said. It didn't matter if I lied and told her it would be okay, because she deserved a few more hours of – what? not happiness – calm, maybe, before her life ended.

"Tell me again," she said. "Tell me what to do to stay alive."

So I did. I repeated all the advice I'd given her before, told her things that were in my notes that I hadn't thought would be useful, even, just to have something to give her. "Don't step off your platform until the gong sounds, and when it does, grab the one item that's closest to you and run. You and Dane are meeting District Twelve, right?"

"Yes," Kirstin whispered. She wasn't crying as hard now, I thought. Like me, she was a thinker; maybe it helped to keep her brain occupied with something other than panic. "I told Elza and Beem to meet me and Dane at the highest ground we could find west of the Cornucopia, and if the arena doesn't have noticeable high ground, for some reason, to meet near the tallest landmark in the same direction."

"That's very smart," I told her, impressed. "That way, you won't have to keep track of each other during the bloodbath. If you only have to worry about yourselves, all four of you stand a much better chance of getting away clean." She gave me a wavering smile in return for my praise.

"What should we do once we meet at the rendezvous point?" she asked.

"Inventory your supplies," I said. "If you have food and water, great. If not, find some. Twelve will have an advantage there, because their district is much less developed than ours." I remembered, from my Victory Tour, the seemingly endless meadows and forests both inside and beyond Twelve's electric fence. "Any food and water you have, you should divide between the four of you. That way, if you get separated, none of you will be without supplies."

"But what about weapons? Usually everything good is right by the Cornucopia, and you're saying we should run away immediately."

"No matter how good the things near the Cornucopia look, _run_," I said, making my voice stony and commanding in imitation of Claudius. "That's the most important thing of all, on the first day. The Careers will tear you to pieces if you get anywhere near the horn. Sometimes there are knives and things in the packs, so you might get lucky and end up with a weapon that way. If not, too bad. A big, shiny sword won't do you any good if you're dead."

Of course, Kirstin began to cry again, but I didn't care. It was of the utmost importance that she and the others stay far away from the Careers, the Cornucopia, and the thick of the bloodbath. I would've given my right hand to be able to sit down with the boy and girl from Twelve and give them the same advice right now.

"The best thing you can do," I went on, raising my voice slightly to speak over Kirstin's soft whimpers, "Is get as far from the Cornucopia as you can on the first day. You guys are survivors, not fighters, so you need to stay moving. Don't let the Careers get their hands on you. If you can avoid them for long enough, their pack will fall apart, turn on each other. Between the four of you, you should be able to take on whoever is left." _Unless it's Ellise Beltrane, _I thought.

Kirstin nodded, wiping tears off her cheeks with the back of one hand. "Our alliance will break down, too," she said. "What do I do then? How…how do I kill them?"

_I'm the last person you should be asking that question, for so many reasons. _"Stick with the others as long as you can," I told her. "Don't be the one to dissolve the alliance." And now I was doing it for real, giving my own tribute advice that would likely result in her death. The real advice, the good advice, was that she should leave the group before the other three did, because it would give her the advantage of surprise in the fight that would follow. I couldn't tell her that, because I needed Elza or Beem to have the advantage instead.

"Okay," she said. "I can do that. I'm hoping to convince the others that we should stay together until all the Careers are gone, but as soon as the last one dies, I'll grab whatever I can and run."

I could almost wish she wasn't so smart, because if she succeeded in her plan, she'd be stealing supplies from the pair from Twelve. _Oh well, _I thought. _That's where sponsor gifts come in._

The process of finding sponsors and sending gifts was made complicated by the fact that Twelve had no previous victors. In the case that a district lacked a mentor, though, the escort was responsible for handling all potential sponsors, and could access the control room to send sponsor gifts. I'd learned that from Varius, and it was part of the reason Theta was spending time with the other escorts tonight.

So far, we'd had no luck getting Twelve's escort to join our cause – actually, we had yet to find any indication that she possessed a brain at all – so that was one more obstacle in our way. Theta was all for explaining our plan to her, but the rest of us had warned her against it. Just because she was sympathetic didn't mean anyone else from the Capitol would be, and that was a risk we weren't going to take, especially this early in the game.

Kirstin was looking at me expectantly, so I wracked my brain for more tips to give her. "Uh, traps, right," I began. "If you can get your hands on ropes, wires, vines or anything similar, try setting traps for the Careers. It's one of their biggest vulnerabilities, especially when they're still in the alliance and think they're invincible. Whatever you do, don't confront any of them directly, except as a last resort, and if you have to, try to get them away from their weapons.

"Don't ever underestimate them – or anyone, for that matter – even if they're unarmed," I continued hurriedly. "The Careers kill as easily with their bare hands as you could with a knife." _More easily, _I thought, but I wasn't going to say that, not when her tears had just stopped.

She nodded to show she understood, then lapsed into silence. We sat there for a long time, staring absently at the television, even though the sound was turned down low enough that we couldn't hear anything.

I looked out the window at the gradually lightening sky. It was almost dawn, when the hovercraft would land on the roof to collect the tributes and fly them to the arena. The Games would begin in the early afternoon. According to Allison, that meant this year's arena was relatively distant from the Capitol, whereas last year's – the desert – had been only an hour's flight.

Kirstin caught the direction of my glance and began to shiver uncontrollably. "I'm scared, Memorie," she whispered. "I don't want to die."

"I know," I said, moving closer so I could put my arms around her. She was less than two years younger than me, but in this moment, she seemed childlike and impossibly vulnerable. I rocked her gently, the way I used to do with fussy babies at the daycare. Her tears soaked the shoulder of the evening gown I was still wearing.

When the sun finally rose, it's first rays shone cheerily through the window, mocking us. Kirstin was still crying, though she'd run out of tears a long time ago. _Dehydration. Not good. _"I'm going to get you a glass of water," I told her softly. "You can drink it while I go wake Dane. Then I'll take both of you up to the roof, okay?"

She shook her head vigorously, but then, I could hardly expect her to go gladly. I gave her the water, and when I emerged with Dane, who looked no better rested that his district partner, the glass was empty. That was something, at least.

"Come on," I said to them, the children I was about to kill. "It's time to go."

"Will you stay until the hovercraft leaves?" That was Dane, surprisingly. I hadn't thought him the type to seek comfort from someone like me, even in a time of distress.

"Yes, of course," I told them both. "And I'll be watching when you're in the arena, too. I'll take care of you."


	13. Slaughter and Salvage

"You don't look so good," Felix commented as I walked through the door to the control room. So far, there were very few mentors present, just me, Felix, and a man and woman I vaguely recognized as victors from Ten and Nine, respectively. "Are you coming down with something?" he asked solicitously. "This would be a bad time to get sick."

"I'm not sick," I assured him. "Just didn't get much sleep last night. Kirstin was scared, so I stayed up talking to her until the hovercraft came." After the tributes had departed for the arena, I'd showered and changed out of the dress I'd worn to the interviews, but Theta had shown up before I had time to try for a brief nap. To top it off, she'd come bearing bad news: Twelve's escort hadn't shown the night before, so we had no way of sending sponsor gifts to that pair of tributes.

"That's not good," Felix said. "I'm taking you to Claudius." He grasped me by the arm and began towing be back toward the entrance, not waiting for my response.

I shook him off impatiently. "Who died and made you my keeper?" I asked, annoyed. "I'm tired of you and Claudius and Varius and Allison dragging me around like some kind of doll. I got here early on purpose because I need to figure out the controls before the cameras go live. If you want me to talk to Claudius, you can bring him to me."

"Stubborn little thing, aren't you?" Felix chuckled. "Claudius will get here when he gets here. If I try to track him down, odds are I'll miss the countdown myself, and then you'll be scraping bits of me off the walls when Claudius finds out I wasn't in the control room when the Games started."

The mental image made me shudder, and I questioned, for the hundredth time, whether allying myself with the Careers was a wise choice. _It's not like you have an alternative, _I reminded myself. _Besides, Felix was joking. Probably._

"How long do we have left?" I asked.

"About half an hour," he replied. "Come here, I'll show you what all the buttons do." At his urging, I sat down at my console. The control room was shaped like a circle, with the mentors' control stations arranged in a ring within it. My station – stations, actually, because there was one for each tribute, so I had to monitor Kirstin and Dane, since there was no other surviving victor from my district – was between Two and Four, so at least I'd be among friends.

"Those screens will show the tributes," Felix informed me, gesturing to the twenty-four large plasma displays mounted on the walls of the room. "At first, it'll be pretty much the same camera on all of them, but as they disperse after the bloodbath, the views will change, allowing you to keep track of your kids. When someone dies, the screen goes black."

"What do these do?" I asked, gesturing to the bewildering assortment of switches on my control panel.

"This little screen is connected to the tribute's tracking chip," he said. "It's an electrocardiogram that'll show heart rate and blood pressure for as long as the tribute is alive." He pointed to a second blank screen below the first. "This," he continued, "tells you how much money your sponsors have donated. Once the gong sounds, you're allowed to petition people for money. It'll be hard for you, though, because you'll have to juggle monitoring and schmoozing, while districts with more than one mentor usually split the duties."

"Fantastic," I said sarcastically. Now I _really_ wished Flux, who had been my mentor before being poisoned by the Capitol, was alive. Even in his usual state of bumbling drunkenness, he should've been able to handle the control stations.

Felix ignored my cynicism and finished his explanation. "These buttons allow you to scroll through the list of things you can afford to send your tributes, and this one in the middle is how you select an item to send. It's pretty straightforward. Do you have any other questions?"

"Yeah," I said. "How much trouble would I be in if I went and worked at Twelve's stations in addition to mine?"

"The same amount of trouble Flux got in for sending a gift to someone else's tribute," Felix said seriously. "Don't try it, Memorie. Your best bet at this point is to send gifts to your kids that they'll be able to share with Twelve. Maybe Twelve's escort will show up, and then you won't even have to worry about it," he added, though I noticed he didn't sound like he thought it likely.

"Oh, good, here's Claudius," Felix said, with something akin to relief. I frowned at him – surely I wasn't that much of a trial to talk to – but he pointedly slid his chair back to Two's station on my left, avoiding my eyes.

"You look like hell, Renwick," Claudius said by way of greeting. Nine and Ten's mentors, who had ignored us up to that point, turned to stare, forcing me to bite back the equally cutting response on the tip of my tongue.

"Nice to see you too, dear," I replied, placing gentle emphasis on the last word. The start Claudius gave at my tacit rebuke almost made up for his insult. Almost. From somewhere to our left came the sound of Felix's poorly muffled laughter.

To my disappointment and Claudius' credit, he recovered instantly. "My apologies, Memorie," he said smoothly, bending to caress my shoulder. "I didn't get any sleep last night, and I'm not myself. Forgive me?"

"Of course," I murmured. "I understand perfectly. One of my tributes was upset last night, so I hardly slept either." He nodded, taking the chair between Felix's and mine.

"I saw Fetch on my way here, so he should be along shortly," Claudius told us. "He said Barra was on her way too, but she'd stayed behind to see if she could get Hinge to come down to the control room. I don't know why she bothered. Both of Six's are bloodbath material this year." The other two mentors had overheard Claudius' words and were scowling angrily in our direction.

_Not a good start to our mission of district unity, _I thought. "We don't know that for sure," I told him, making sure I also spoke loudly enough to be overheard. "Remember the eighteenth Games, when the girl from your district died in the bloodbath? It's as much luck as anything else in the first few minutes." Now Claudius and Felix were glaring at me, but I saw Tanner, the man from Ten, give me a swift, appraising look, because that was the year he'd won.

The door swung open and Fetch and Barra trooped in, effectively dissolving the tension. Behind them came a shambling Hinge, supported, to my surprise, by Canary from District Five. "Hi guys," Barra greeted us, while Fetch just gave one of his taciturn nods and seated himself in the second chair to my right.

"Nice to see you, Barra," I said, returning Fetch's nod. "And you too, Hinge, Canary." Hinge didn't acknowledge my greeting, but Canary's head snapped up in shock and she narrowed her piercing blue eyes at me.

"Memorie Renwick, a pleasure to meet you," she said finally, though her expression and tone indicated it was anything but. She led Hinge around the circle and lowered him into one of the chairs in front of Six's station before taking her own seat.

"Ten minutes," Barra told me, leaning across the small gap between our consoles. I shifted nervously in my seat, knowing there was nothing I could do to help either my tributes or Twelve's at this point. I hated it. So far, I'd been holding off my panic by staying active, constantly adding new layers to our plan, considering new allies to recruit. Now, there was nothing but empty time between me and the inevitable beginning of the slaughter that was the first day of each Games.

When the door opened again, Chard and Burr from Eleven came in, followed by the other mentor from Ten and a man I didn't recognize, but who by process of elimination had to be a mentor from either Seven or Eight (it was Eight, as I discovered when he sat down). Jet and Emery from One appeared several minutes later, and Felix lounged indolently in his chair, glaring daggers at the older victor from his rival district. Jet merely arched an eyebrow in a fair imitation of polite disapproval before choosing his seat.

The stations for Seven and Twelve remained deserted, though I knew Seven had a victor.

I'd turned to ask Barra where Seven's mentor was when the screens around the room flared to life, freezing the words in my mouth. After a momentary blur of grayish static, the screens on the walls calmed to reveal a view of the golden Cornucopia, surrounded by green grass and twenty-four empty platforms. The smaller displays on the consoles in front of me lit up as well, and I saw Kirstin's face appear on one, Dane's on the other.

My allies from Two and Four drew their chairs closer to mine and began a frenzied conversation conducted mostly in whispers. "Looks like your standard evergreen forest so far," Barra observed. "That'll be good for Twelve," she told me, lowering her voice so I could barely hear her.

"Good assortment of weapons," Claudius said. "Look," he ordered, pointing to one of the big screens. "There's a bow, a bunch of swords and spears, an axe…and if you look at the other side," he went on, putting a hand on the back of my chair and swiveling it halfway around, "there are knives, a trident and a maul."

"What's a maul?" I asked, forgetting to whisper. Claudius glared at me, but Felix said, "It's that thing that looks like a big hammer," and I identified it, leaning against the mouth of the Cornucopia and looking particularly deadly.

"Here they come," muttered someone on the other side of the room. Sure enough, the platforms had retracted, leaving twenty-four holes in the ground through which the tributes were rising, blinking in the sunlight. The moment the platforms locked back into place, a countdown began, starting at sixty, and I rushed to find Kirstin and Dane.

They were on the same side of the circle, but separated by seven other tributes. From what I could see, the positions were random, unlike last year. Beem was halfway between my two tributes, but Elza was on the opposite side of the horn entirely, and I could see her turning her head from side to side, dismayed.

Ellise Beltrane stood three platforms to Elza's left, and she was smiling.

The count continued – there was no electronic board atop the Cornucopia this year, so the countdown was announced over a set of loudspeakers – and I zeroed in on Kirstin's small, pale face. All the tributes wore black jumpsuits with long sleeves and high necks, and Kirstin's red hair seemed all the brighter by contrast. Even on the screen, the dark circles under her eyes were apparent. Fortunately, she hadn't been crying, at least not that I could tell.

Then the gong rang, so loud and sudden I leaped out of my seat like I was the one who needed to run for her life. I was glad most of the others seemed fixated on their screens, so maybe no one had seen. I resumed my seat, staring breathlessly at the screens showing Kirstin, Dane and Beem's side of the horn.

Both boys followed my instructions brilliantly, racing a few strides toward the Cornucopia, grabbing a pack from the ground, and bolting in opposite directions before anyone had even reached the pile of weapons at the center. Kirstin froze for a single, heartstopping instant before shaking her head vigorously and diving for a small black backpack about halfway between her platform and the horn.

She turned and sprinted away, and for a second, I thought she'd gotten away.

Then Ellise Beltrane rounded the curved tail of the Cornucopia, carrying the hammer-like maul in both hands but moving like it weighed nothing. She scanned the fleeing children with narrowed eyes before fixating on Kirstin's red hair. Two smaller boys ran right by her, but they gave her wide enough berth that she left them alone, the better to pursue my tribute.

The only good thing about the situation was that Kirstin never saw her coming. Beltrane closed the gap between them effortlessly, raising the maul in a shining arc above her head. She brought it down hard, and the force of the blow shattered Kirstin's skull like a rotten melon.

I'm not sure what happened next, but I found myself staring at the carpet of the control room from a distance of a few inches, black and silver flecks crowding the edges of my vision. I was retching uncontrollably, but I don't think I managed to bring anything up, since I hadn't eaten since dinner last night.

Strong hands closed around my upper arms, hauling me upright with little or no help from me. Dizzily, I tried to focus on the face in front of me, but my field of vision had narrowed further as the blood drained from my head, so all I could see was a dark blur. I was cold.

"I need to get her out of here," a voice said.

"Take her, I'll watch the screens," replied a second voice.

I was dimly aware of the hands shifting their grasp on me and the ground tilting sideways. The jarring motion of footsteps told me I was being carried, and that took me back to my own arena strongly enough that I managed to blink and turn my head to look up at the person holding me. I couldn't stop the crushing wave of disappointment that coursed through me when I saw it was Claudius, not Neera.

"It's going to be all right, Memorie," he told me, but the words only reminded me of Kirstin's fear last night, and my inability to reassure her with platitudes. My inability to save her. "You're not in the arena, you're safe," he continued. Did he think I was reacting this way because I thought my life was in danger? Apparently.

With effort, I opened my mouth, trying to tell him that it was Kirstin I was mourning, Dane and Elza and Beem I was afraid for, but I couldn't get the words out. "Hush," he said again, shifting me in his arms. "I won't let anything hurt you."

_Neera said that, too. It didn't stop her from dying. What will I do if you die, Claudius?_

From somewhere in the background, I heard a gasp. "What happened?" a woman asked. "Is she hurt?" I recognized the voice as Allison's a moment before she leaned over to look at me.

"Beltrane killed her female tribute and she fainted," Claudius told her. "I think it took her back, made her think she's in there again. She's too cold, and she's shaking."

"I'll take her," Allison said. I tried for a second time to make some sound come out of my mouth, but all I managed was a high-pitched wail that certainly didn't reassure anyone. "You need to get back."

"Felix is holding down the fort," Claudius said, his arms tightening enough to make me gasp. "I'll take her up to her apartment, and you can stay with her. I need to know she's all right." A number of sarcastic thoughts ran through my mind, none of them particularly favorable toward the man who had just scooped me up off the floor and carried me home.

When we reached my apartment – I suspected I'd blacked out again sometime during the elevator ride up – Allison directed Claudius to my bedroom and he deposited me unceremoniously atop the coverlet. He bent down and pressed two fingers to the pulse point at my throat, and must've been more or less satisfied with what he found, because he said, "Call a doctor if she gets worse," and left without a backward glance.

Strangely, his disappearance seemed to unglue my tongue. "I'm not scared, and I'm not back in my arena," I announced, pushing myself up on my elbows and trying to ignore the way darkness encroached on my field of view once more. "And if someone doesn't take me back to the control room right now, I'm going to be very angry."

Allison collapsed beside my bed with a little huff that might have been frustration or relief. "If I take you back, Claudius will have my head," she told me. "Besides, if you passed out, who's to say you won't do it again?"

"I passed out because your tribute bashed my tribute's head to pieces with a giant hammer," I said acerbically, and had the pleasure of seeing her eyes go wide. Obviously, she hadn't been watching the beginning of the Games. "I'm sure I'll cry my eyes out and have lots of new nightmares later, but right now, I need to get back there and see if my others survived the bloodbath."

"If you can walk there, you're welcome to go back," Allison said, crossing her arms challengingly. By sheer force of will, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and made them accept my weight. I started for the door, and Allison scrambled to her feet behind me, muttering obscenities.

"Didn't think I could do it, did you?" I asked, turning to flash her a smile. I regretted it immediately, of course, because my head spun like a top, but the way she narrowed her eyes made it worth the effort.

"Claudius is going to kill me," was all she said, catching up enough to take my arm in a steadying grip, which – I told myself – I didn't need.

"Why should he?" I asked. "I made my own decision to go back to the control room. You didn't tell me to."

"No, but I could've put a knife to your throat and stopped you," she growled, and I hoped the assorted Capitolians passing us on the sidewalk took that for an abstract threat, not a real one. "Hell, I'd say you should tell him _you_ held _me_ at knifepoint, except no one would believe that in a million years."

I had to laugh at that.

When we reached the control center, Allison waved to me but waited long enough to make sure I got through the door in one piece before leaving. As a non-mentoring victor, she wasn't allowed in the room itself at any point during these Games.

Inside, Felix saw me first, and the expression of abject horror that spread across his face should've given me some warning what I was in for. Claudius, catching Felix's look, rose from his chair and spun slowly on the spot. When he saw me, he stalked forward, clenching and unclenching his right hand as though wishing for a weapon that wasn't there.

He bent close to, his lips feathering the hair above my ear when he spoke. "I thought I told you in no uncertain terms to _stay put_," he hissed. "You're in no shape to be here. If you collapse again, you'll need serious medical attention, and I can't guarantee that it would get here in time."

I turned my head and whispered back every bit as ferociously. "You told Allison to watch me, you didn't tell _me_ anything," I retorted. "If you and Varius and everyone else are trusting me to lead this –" I broke off mid-sentence, because saying the word _rebellion_ at the center of the Capitol's power seemed like a bad idea, "– whatever this is," I went on, "I don't see why you can't trust me to take care of myself."

Abruptly, something in his face shifted, and I didn't know him well enough to name the expression it held afterwards. "Because you've proven repeatedly that you put the safety of others before your own well-being," he said. "Regardless, you're here now, and you'll be less likely to faint if you're sitting in your chair."

I took that as my cue to go to my control station – only one station, now, because Kirstin's had gone dark with her death – and assess the damage. From looking around the room, I could tell that eleven of the tributes were dead in the first hour, but three of my four were still in the game. Objectively speaking, that was significantly better than things could've gone.

All six of the Careers were alive as well. The pack was standing around the Cornucopia, laughing and tossing supplies to each other. Ellise Beltrane held court at the center of the group.

"Are you okay?" Barra asked. I nodded, but couldn't bring myself to actually say yes. "I'm sorry about the girl," she said. "If it helps, the boy got away and met with the pair from Twelve. They found water and they're looking for food."

"Thank goodness," I sighed. Maybe this situation was salvageable after all.


	14. Starting Over

_No, don't do that! You're supposed to be allies!_ But Dane couldn't hear me because he was hundreds of miles away and I was thinking, not speaking, so he brought his mace crashing down onto Elza's sleeping form anyway.

A cannon fired and a screen went dark, and my chances of accomplishing my goal during the twenty-sixth Games decreased by half. More, because now I had no way at all of getting supplies to Beem. Also, I really and truly hated Dane at this point. Bad manners I could forgive, but not killing a supposed ally in her sleep and sneaking off into the dark like a coward.

At least it ensured that Beem got to keep Elza's supplies and the small knife she'd carried tucked into the collar of her shirt, hidden beneath her hair. Beem had started awake when his partner's cannon fired and was now cursing and crying over Elza's body. When he'd taken everything he could use, he gently closed her eyes and backed away into the darkness, allowing a hovercraft to claim the body.

To my right, I heard Felix bite back a curse of his own. I spun my chair in a quarter-circle to look at the Careers' screens. The sound of the cannon had awoken all sleeping four pack members – the girl from Four had died yesterday, on the fifth day of the Games, and the boy from One was already awake, since it was his turn to keep watch – and sent the camp into a frenzy like a kicked anthill.

The partners from Two, who had been sleeping closest to the Cornucopia, leapt up and put their backs to the horn, scanning the darkness for potential threats. "Damn it, Beltrane, that cannon wasn't for any of you. Don't do anything stupid," Felix muttered, his eyes, slightly glazed from lack of sleep, fixated on the same screen I was watching.

"We're down to the final eight – seven, now – so everyone's nervous about the alliance breaking down," Fetch told me. I doubted he would've said anything if Barra had been there to explain, but she was frantically campaigning for sponsors at the moment. I hoped she intended to use any money she got to help Beem, but her remaining tribute had been injured two days ago, so she might decide to send him first aid supplies.

Onscreen, the boys from One and Two were engaged in a rapidly escalating fistfight, while the boy from Four and the girl from One snapped at each other. For a few minutes, I was hopeful that blood would be spilled, increasing Beem's odds of survival.

Ellise Beltrane insinuated her body between the two boys trading punches and shoved the boy from One, who had to outweigh her by at least fifty pounds, so hard he sat down in the dirt, looking dumbfounded. When her district partner moved forward to capitalize on his opponent's misfortune, she thumped his chest with the side of her fist, saying, "Stop it, idiot, we're all fine. That was someone from Three or Twelve. Seeley, did you hear anything before the cannon went off?"

The boy from Four, who had abandoned his argument in favor of watching Beltrane break up the fight, shook his head. "Didn't see anything either," he told her. In his hand, he held the only pair of night-vision goggles I'd seen in the arena, and he waved them as evidence.

"I hope it was Three," the girl from One interjected. "Neither of the others can even fight."

"None of them can fight, compared to us," Beltrane reminded her compatriot. "I say we take the glasses and hunt them now, while they're still mourning their dead ally." _Bitch, _I thought. The girl from Two had emerged as the pack leader after the bloodbath on the first day, so I was surprised when her district partner raised objections to her plan.

"We should wait until morning," he said. "We only have the one pair of glasses, so four of us would be stumbling around blind. Besides, it's not like whoever's left is going to come after us!" That drew laughs from everyone but Beltrane, who looked angry that the group wasn't following her orders unquestioningly.

"I'm tired of waiting around," she said angrily. "They've lived this long by avoiding us, but if they think we're just going to sit here and kill each other off for their convenience, they'd better think again. Give me those," she snapped to the boy from Four, snatching the goggles from his hand before he could decide whether or not to comply. She slid them on.

"I'm going hunting," she announced. "If you _girls_ are too scared to join me, at least make sure you guard the camp until I come back." Despite the taunt, when she strode into the forest, she did it alone. Nevertheless, I had a sneaking suspicion Beem and Dane couldn't have defeated her even if they were still allies, much less alone.

Felix, obviously thinking along the same lines, slipped a sideways glance at me and mouthed the word "Sorry." I waved a hand at him, dismissing the apology. Beltrane's behavior wasn't his fault, at least not in the way it would've been if he'd mentored her the way Varius had mentored Neera.

Jet, however, decided to take offense where I'd chosen not to. He pushed his chair away from the District One control station and rose to his feet, pinning Felix with a piercing gray stare. "It appears you remain unable to exert even a modicum of control over your tributes, Felix," he said silkily. "One would think five years would have given you enough practice, but clearly that isn't the case."

Felix, looking almost glad for the distraction, stood up so fast he knocked his chair over. "This coming from the district whose male tribute went insane last year," he replied scathingly. "Sorry if I don't exactly consider you a role model in that regard, Jet."

"I don't expect you to know quality when you see it, coming from Two," Jet said coolly, taking a step closer to Felix, probably to emphasize his greater height. "Glint collapsed under extremely harsh emotional conditions, namely, the gruesome death of his district partner. Until that point, he behaved with a strength and poise that would do any aristocrat proud."

"That's why your district has aristocrats and mine has victors," Felix returned, sneering.

"Both of you, sit down and shut up," Claudius said softly. The perilous edge to his voice was sharp enough that both obeyed instantly. I glanced at Claudius, who was still in his chair at Two's control station. For the first time since I'd met him, he was showing his age, looking weary and haggard even as he rebuked the other victors.

When all three men had returned their attention to the screens, I leaned over to whisper in Claudius' ear. "You should leave, get some rest," I suggested. "There's nothing you can do at this point, anyway. I promise I'll come get you if anything major happens."

He was shaking his head before I'd finished, to my intense irritation. "I'll take a break if you will," he challenged, and it was my turn to shake my head.

"One of us has to be here, especially with Barra gone," I reminded him. _I'm young, I can handle it,_ I wanted to say. Maybe he saw something of the words I'd held back in my eyes, because when he spoke again, he sounded angry.

"Don't look at me like that, girl," he hissed. "I could keep fighting for hours after you'd've dropped dead of exhaustion. Never forget that."

I sighed. "That doesn't mean you don't need sleep, Claudius. _Everyone_ needs sleep. Being tired after six days of near-constant alertness doesn't make you weak."

"No, but it _is_ making me incredibly short-tempered," he replied, closing his eyes as if to ward off a headache. "Drop it Memorie. I mean it: unless you rest, I won't." Now Felix and Fetch were looking at us, one with curiosity, the other, concern, so I was forced to give up.

"Fine," I said. "But when this is over – and it won't be long now, not with just my two and five Careers in the mix – you're going to sleep if I have to knock you unconscious first."

Claudius smirked, giving me a glimpse of the dark-haired boy who had won the Games more than twenty years ago. "You and what army, Renwick?"

I didn't have an answer to that, so I turned back to my console, pretending not to hear.

In the end, I'd done better than anyone had expected, but that didn't make defeat any less bitter.

Dane died on Ellise Beltrane's knife on the morning of the sixth day, to the dismay of no one except perhaps his family. Beem actually made it into the final four before dying of wounds sustained in a rockslide, ones I might have been able to heal if I'd been allowed to spend sponsor money on him.

After Beem died, I finally gave in and left the control room for what I'd intended to be a brief nap but had turned into nineteen straight hours of sleep. Claudius, stubborn as always, stuck it out until the end, and he was there to give me the bad news when I woke up.

In fact, the first words he spoke to me as I dragged my sleep-fogged mind back into the real world were "Beltrane won," not what I would've chosen as my wake-up call.

"Hell," I said, falling back on my pillows with a sigh. "When's the Victory Ceremony?"

"Two days from now. They've got her in the hospital now, and they want her face to heal up some before they slap it on cameras all over the nation," he told me.

"Why, what happened?" I asked.

"The boy from One gave her a run for her money there at the end," Claudius said. "Went at her with a spear and she tripped and fell face-first into some brambles. She lost her left eye, but managed to finish him before he could kill her." I narrowed my eyes at the unmistakable pride in his voice.

"Were you ever really on my side, or was this all some grander plan to get your own tribute to win?" I asked, though my voice was still soft from sleep rather than accusing, as I wanted to make it.

Claudius leaned over my bed in a way that made me very aware of how helpless I was. "If that were the case, I'd be at Beltrane's bedside right now, not yours. She can die, for all I care, as long as you're all right," he told me, his sharp tone entirely unsuitable for the loving words.

I looked around the room, but there was no one there besides us, no reason for him to perpetuate the deception of our romantic involvement. "Where's everyone else?" I asked.

"Felix is with his victor, though they nearly got in a fistfight once already, never mind that she's incapacitated," he said. "Allison, Varius and Theta went to talk to some of the other victors, but they'll be back as soon as they hear that you're awake."

"They haven't gone home yet?" I asked, surprised the other districts' victors had lingered after their tributes had been killed.

"We're all technically required to be present at the Victory Ceremony, though exceptions are usually made for people like Hinge and Flux who might end up being more of a disgrace than anything," he responded. "Besides, I know Chard and Barra want to congratulate you. Some of the others probably will, too."

"Congratulate me?" I asked. "For what? Managing to lose not two, but four tributes? That's hardly cause for celebration."

"For getting a kid from Twelve into the final four," Claudius said seriously. "Just because you couldn't help them directly doesn't mean you have nothing to do with their survival," he went on, anticipating my argument. "Barra and Fetch made sure their tributes underestimated Twelve's, ignored them altogether until it was almost too late. You told your kids to form an alliance with them, and strength in numbers got most of them into the final eight. In my book, that's pretty damn impressive."

Coming from him, that was high praise indeed. I found myself blushing, the way I hadn't during any of our fake public displays of affection. "Thank you," I said.

He nodded absently and stood. "I'm going to crash Varius and Theta's meeting," he told me. "I'll bring them back here for dinner when we're done."

"Okay," I said.

When he was gone, I pulled myself out of bed and into the bathroom. The face in the mirror was pale and shadowed even though I'd just slept for the better part of a day. I ran a hand through my hair – tangled, of course – and stepped into the shower, pressing a button that released a refreshing mint-scented mist into the air.

Afterwards, I chose to brush out my hair while it was still wet, letting it air-dry instead of using the Capitol-approved method to dry it instantly. It was straight and light brown at the moment, but I knew it would be silver-blond and curly in an hour. I rummaged through my closet until I found something that wasn't dress-shaped and lacy to wear, and went into my living room and switched on the television.

Every channel was a rerun of the Games, of course, but that's what I was after, so I sat down to watch. By the time Claudius came back with the others, I'd seen the entirety of the twenty-sixth Games and added my observations to the ones already in my notebook. As much as I didn't want to try again next year, as discouraged as I felt, Claudius' words had given me new hope.

"Memorie, I'm so glad you're awake!" exclaimed Theta, rushing over to engulf me in a lilac-scented hug. "How do you feel? Are you all right? I've been ever so worried."

"I'm fine, Theta," I said. "I was just tired. It's not like the other times, when I actually had something to recover from." Theta protested, of course, but the Careers simply nodded. To them, even the wounds I received from Head Gamemaker Gallegos were next to nothing.

"Are you up to visiting Mags for dinner?" Allison asked. "She's in town for the Victory Ceremony and she asked if we'd all like to come over tonight."

"Sure," I replied. "It'll be good to get out of here. Who else is invited?"

"The guys from Four, all of us, Hinge, Canary and Eleven," Allison said. "She was planning to invite One, but she was afraid Jet and Felix would get in a fight and wreck the place again."

"Again?"

"Yeah, the same thing happened a few years back, apparently," she told me. "I wasn't there at the time, but Varius was."

Varius nodded in agreement. "They broke her new table last time. Mags was furious. It doesn't matter how many times those bastards from One claim they're better than us, they're just as eager to fight as we are."

"Enough," Claudius said quellingly. "Memorie, are you ready to go?" In answer, I walked over and took his arm. "Do you have your knife?" he asked. I patted the spot on my leg where I'd strapped it, wondering why he thought I'd need it.

"You're not thinking of trying this again?" Canary asked disbelievingly.

"I'm doing more than _thinking of trying_ to get Twelve a victor," I replied. "I'll do it. We'll do it, I mean," I corrected hastily. Talking this openly would've worried me if I hadn't received three separate assurances from Mags, Claudius and Chard that the apartment was clean of Capitol espionage equipment.

"How, though? You tried once and failed. What makes you think it'll work the next time?" Canary continued.

"This is already so much progress," I said. I had to make them see that we'd already done something impossible, forging bonds between victors who had hated each other, and the next impossible thing would just be another small step. "We're all sitting here, talking to each other civilly," I told them. "The only things that stood between us and success this year were a crazed girl and a flaky escort. If we can get Twelve's escort on our side before next year…"

Theta was looking skeptical, so I trailed off, leaving her room to speak. "I barely know Crystal," she said. "None of us do. She's as new as I am, and she's been extremely unfriendly so far." Theta sat back in a huff, crossing her arms in disgust with all people who exhibited antisocial tendencies.

"That's not all, though," Mags said. "It would help if we could get the rest of the victors on our side. Chard, do you think you could talk to the guys from Ten? Convince them to help us?"

The oldest victor shifted in his seat, turning to give Mags his full attention. "Not as long as there are Careers running this operation," he replied, his deep voice solemn.

"We aren't," Claudius broke in. "Memorie Renwick is our leader. Even I follow her instructions." I bit my tongue, hard, to keep from laughing aloud, because that was bullshit. Claudius had probably never followed anyone's instructions in his life.

"Regardless," Chard continued, as smoothly as though he hadn't been interrupted. "I think we'd have better luck with Eight and Nine. I don't know about Seven." I recalled hearing that the only victor from District Seven spent most of his time the way my mentor had, too drunk to walk.

Skiff looked thoughtful. "Have you guys even tried talking to any of the victors from District One? Chime and Emery might be too new to understand why we feel the need to do this, but surely the older victors would help."

"Oh, I've talked to Jet," said Felix. "And he's talked to me, and I'm pretty sure we've exchanged enough blood and spit to fill an ocean. Trust me, he's completely unreasonable. If we try bringing them in on this, the little bastards will probably report us to the president. They might get bigger houses or sparkly jewelry out of it, and that's all they care about.

"Yes, we've all seen you boys fight," Barra said, chuckling. "Actually, if we ever decide to ask for One's help, I think Memorie should send you to talk to Jet. God knows he enjoys listening."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Felix, knocking over his second chair in as many days as he came to his feet.

"Oh, nothing," laughed Barra, seeming unconcerned that she a very angry, very unstable killer sitting two seats down from her. "You'll figure it out eventually. Anyway, we were discussing our next phase of the plan. What do you think, Memorie?"

I sat up straighter, glad to be recognized. "Well, we have a bunch of time on our hands until the next Games, so I vote we make good use of it. Chard, you and Burr talk to the victors from Nine and Ten and see if you can make any headway. Canary, do you think you can take Hinge to Seven and Eight?"

"I suppose," Canary said evenly. She still wasn't terribly fond of me because of my association with the Careers, it seemed. "After all, what better way to spend my time than hanging out with a brain-scrambled victor twice my age? Oh, wait, that's what you're doing."

Beneath the table, Claudius put a restraining hand on my knee. I glared at him. Did he really believe me petty enough to respond to such a childish insult? Besides, I didn't think Claudius' brain was scrambled. No more than the rest of ours, anyway.

"Felix," I went on. "Could you talk – just talk – to Jet? Please? And try not to bring the district down around your ears? Get him alone. Don't worry about the others for now. It would be enough to have one person from each district, as far as I'm concerned."

Allison was looking at me like I'd gone crazy, but Felix, after a moment's pause, gave me a reluctant nod. "I reckon I can manage that," he said slowly. "No guarantees I can convince him of anything, bloody idiot that he is, but I'll give it a shot."

"Thank you," I said. "Theta, do whatever you can to become friends with the escort for Twelve. Crystal, you called her? Don't tell her anything important yet, but see if you can get her in your debt. If she owes us a favor, we can call it in next Games." Theta gave me a curt nod, her green hair bobbing.

Satisfied that the business end of things was taken care of, I turned my attention to my dinner. Claudius handed me a glass of wine, and when I took it and set it on the table, he covered my hand with his. I knew we were in public, so it didn't count for anything, but I still smiled when he bent and pressed a light kiss to my temple.


	15. Unexpected Quarter

In all my brilliant planning, I'd forgotten to account for one essential thing. Person, really. And now it – she – was coming back to haunt me.

Ellise Beltrane, fresh from her Victory Tour, stood outside my apartment, waiting for me to buzz her in. I was hesitating, debating whether or not it would be a good idea to talk to her now, when I was alone in my building. She could easily put a knife between my ribs and leave my corpse for Allison or Theta to find. Claudius, I knew, would command me not to let her in until he or one of the others was here to act as chaperone.

It was that, more than anything else, which decided me. I pushed the button that unlocked the door, sat down at my kitchen table, and waited.

Still, I jumped a bit when I heard the knock at my door, and it was with trembling hands that I twisted the doorknob. I flinched again when I opened the door to reveal Beltrane's scowling, one-eyed face. _You'd think spending a year and a half in the company of the scariest people ever to win the Games would've made me grow a backbone. Evidently not, _I thought sourly.

"Ellise Beltrane, to what do I owe the pleasure?" I asked, glad my voice didn't shake like my hands. "Please, come in." I was surprised to see she wasn't very tall, maybe Allison's height. Watching her onscreen, she'd seemed at least as tall as Neera.

She stepped over the threshold without altering her expression a whit. Once I'd closed the door, she said, "This place better be clean, Three," and sat down unceremoniously in my favorite armchair. I nearly told her my housekeeping was perfectly satisfactory, thank you very much, before I realized she meant clean of listening devices, not dirt.

Cursing the fair complexion that made my blush obvious, I said, "Varius checked it the day before you got back from your tour, and it hasn't been empty since then." She nodded dubiously, as though she'd've preferred to check it herself but didn't think it politic to ask.

"That'll have to do," she said uncharitably. "Now, I'm here because Felix tells me you're planning a rebellion and you haven't bothered to include me."

I choked on air for several moments before I managed to recover. _Felix, you idiot, why would you tell Beltrane about us? _"I think there's been a miscommunication," I said. "What did Felix say, exactly? Perhaps you interpreted incorrectly."

Beltrane glared at me. "There are only so many synonyms for rebellion, Three, and Felix can't lie worth crap when he's that drunk," she replied. "I know I didn't misunderstand. Besides, I'm here to say I want in, not to tell you I'm going to blow your cover or anything."

"Fine. Do you know what we're trying to accomplish?" I asked.

"No, he passed out before he could get that far. Why did you make him visit Jet, anyway? Even I know they hate each other, and I've only been a victor for six months," she added.

I sighed, because clearly I'd have to do damage control on the Felix front later in the week. "We're trying to end the Games," I told the other girl blandly, though I was feeling increasingly smug. No matter how intent she seemed on joining our revolt, I was sure she'd back off immediately when she found out our goal was the abolition of the Games she loved.

To my dismay, all she said was "Okay. What's your plan?"

"You already destroyed the first phase of my plan by winning last year!" I exclaimed, finally reaching the end of my patience. "I'm trying to unite the districts by making all the victors friends with each other, which won't happen until Twelve has a victor. Besides, if you think I'm going to welcome you with open arms after what you did to Kirstin, you can think again."

She had opened her mouth halfway through my little tirade, but she closed it again now. "Who the hell is Kirstin?" she asked after a moment's pause.

"Kirstin was my tribute!" I shouted, finding myself on my feet without remembering the decision to stand up. "Little girl, red hair, completely harmless? You smashed her head in on the first day of the Games, and don't try to tell me it wasn't intentional, because I saw you pick her out of the crowd and go after her."

Beltrane didn't look impressed. "Yeah, I remember her now," she said. "What's your point? It's the Hunger Games. People die. I was just showing my sponsors that I wasn't going to pull a Salotti and go all weak-kneed over some pitiful little kid." Her remaining eye met mine steadily as she insulted me, Neera and my ethical standards one after the other.

"If you don't see a problem with the murder of an innocent child, you have no place in our rebellion," I told her coldly. "And don't get any ideas about running to the Capitol and telling tales, because Claudius will kill you before you can get two words out."

"Yeah, yeah, no need to invoke the rabid boyfriend clause on me," she said, waving a hand and looking spectacularly unimpressed. "Life after the Games is boring as hell, and this is the first I've heard of anything that sounds remotely entertaining. Besides, I'm sure if I spend enough time around you lot, I'll grow the finest conscience you could possibly ask for. So, what can I do?"

It was only noon, and I was already tired. This was going to be a very long day. "This isn't some kind of joke," I told her. "There are lives at stake here, and yours will be one of them if I decide to let you join us."

Beltrane snorted and said, "Because clearly I can't handle myself in life-or-death situations," her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"This isn't the same thing," I said, allowing the full measure of my frustration to bleed into my words. "This is other people's lives, not just yours. You can gamble with your own life – God knows, you Careers seem to do that for fun – but not with others'. And you're going to have to ditch the 'district pride, all honor to the Careers' attitude."

"Really?" she asked. "Did you give Varius and Claudius the same speech? Because I can't see either of them agreeing to put the welfare of some dirty coal-grubber's kid above the lives of their own trainees." I wasn't prone to violence, but it took all my self-restraint to keep from slapping her across the face. Next time Felix lost his temper and punched someone, I wouldn't be so quick to scold him, because he was right: sometimes, people deserved it.

"Varius and Claudius are in this for their own reasons, but yes, both acknowledged the necessity of supporting Twelve's tributes over their own until we've accomplished our objective," I retorted. That was true only in the loosest sense – Claudius' motives were still all wrong, in my eyes – but Beltrane didn't need to hear that.

She let out a deep sigh, rolling her eyes. "What do they see in you?" she asked. "I thought if I met you for myself I'd see what made you so special, but you're just like any other outlier. How did you end up with the likes of Neera and Claudius in your pocket?"

I ordered myself to sit back down, though my anger, if anything, grew. "No one is _in my pocket_, as you so crassly put it," I informed her. "Neera sacrificed herself for the greater good, giving me the opportunity to eliminate the injustice of the Capitol's authoritarian leadership. Claudius, of course, has his own objectives, but at present, they coincide with mine, so he agreed to an alliance."

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" Beltrane asked, smirking. "Who would've thought it: Claudius Blaze is going soft. Still, I thought he'd have better taste than to take up with some District Three piece of ass."

"You know," I said musingly, "This really isn't the best way to get me to agree to letting you join. This has to be the fifth time you've insulted me in the span of ten minutes, and I'm not sure what you've been hearing about me, but my tolerance isn't limitless."

For the first time, she gave me a smile that wasn't mocking. "Well, that's certainly good to hear. I was beginning to think you weren't human at all. The way people talk about you, you're either an angel from heaven or the devil himself, depending how they feel about your victory." She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I want to work with you, if you'll have me," she continued, her tone so flat I was sure she was doing her best to keep from insulting me yet again. "Come on, you know you need me. In Two, it's tradition for victors to mentor the year after they win, because it gives them an edge. You know, head still in the Games and all that. If you want Twelve to win next year, you have to have my help."

Ugh. Further evidence of Two's barbaric customs. "Presumably you won't be the only mentor, since there are four other living victors from your district," I said, not allowing any of my disgust to color my tone. "As all four are on my side, I'm sure we'll make do." In truth, I wasn't sure. Ellise Beltrane had been a tough enough opponent when she was an oblivious tribute, and she could do much more damage now that she was in the know and behind the controls.

Still, it was becoming obvious that Beltrane wasn't going anywhere until I gave her an answer. "Very well," I said. "If you're serious about helping us two months from now, you may come to the victor's gathering I'm having. There will be nearly as many outliers as Careers, so you'd do well to mind your attitude."

Her face lit up, and for a split second I could recall that she was a girl around my age, not just a trained killer. Then her mask of indifference was back, twice as thick to make up for the slip. "Typical," she said, rising from her chair. "I shouldn't have expected an outlier to understand the importance of immediate action. I'll see you in two months, Three."

And she left, slamming the door hard enough that my windows rattled.

Once she'd gone, I made a beeline for the telephone. Under better circumstances – when I wasn't guaranteed to be stuck for hours with Ellise Beltrane, for instance – I would've taken the train to District Two and spoken to Felix in person. As matters stood, I'd rather chop of my own hand with the knife Claudius had given me.

So I picked up the receiver and dialed Felix's number, expecting minutes of downtime while I waited for Felix to pour himself out of bed and make his drunken way through the dark house to the phone. To my surprise, he answered on the third right.

"Memorie, is that you?" he asked immediately, his voice an odd mixture of concern and relief.

"What were you going to do if it wasn't?" I answered. "Yeah, it's me."

"Thank God, she hasn't killed you yet. I wasn't looking forward to breaking that news to Claudius," he said. "Listen, I'm really sorry, but Beltrane is on her way to your district right now. I accidentally told her about our alliance, and she got it in that little brain of hers to ask if she could join. If you leave now, you might manage to avoid her."

"Too late," I said, amused at Felix's contrition. "She just left. We had a truly delightful conversation. Out of curiosity, what inspired you to tell her about this whole thing?" We were both being deliberately vague in referring to our plot, because we knew for a fact – thanks to my electronics expertise, for once – that the phone lines were bugged.

Felix groaned, and I had to hold the phone away from me ear to avoid going deaf. "It was more a matter of _let slip_ than _told_, if you want to get technical," he replied. "And it's your fault, too."

"How so?" I asked, already knowing it had something to do with his visit to District One and wondering how he would manage to pin his latest misdeed on me.

"You're the one who told me to talk to Jet," he snapped. "Well, I hope you're happy. I talked to him, and he's willing to help however he can."

"I'm ecstatic," I said drily. "In all seriousness, though, good work. May I ask why you don't sound pleased with yourself?"

He groaned again, this time sounding pained. "You can ask. I'm not going to tell you. And next time you want someone to talk to Jet, you can sent Barra, or better yet, do it yourself." I smirked inwardly because I had a feeling Felix's sour tone was indicative of a lost fight with his archrival. Honestly, I was surprised. I'd thought Felix would come out on top if he and Jet ever got into it for real.

When I told him as much, he let out a sound like a yelp. "Word choice, Renwick," he moaned. Before I could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, he said, "Anyway, I'm glad you survived your encounter with our favorite deranged victor. I'll see you soon, okay?" and hung up.

With that finished, however unsatisfactorily, I went back to my living room and hit the resume button on my remote, settling in front of the television to finish rewatching the seventh Games. That was the year Vega Jib, Two's second victor, had won, but I was more interested in the fact that her final opponent had been the girl from District Twelve. Hopefully, by watching the tape a third time, I could parse whatever strategies had allowed a tribute from Twelve to make it into the final two for the only time in Games history.

An hour in, the buzzer sounded again, and I hopped up, glad for the distraction even though I was half-afraid it was Beltrane coming back to pursue her case. Instead, it was Allison, and I pushed the button to let her up right away. I wasn't making any progress with the seventh Games anyway, and a break would do me good. Besides, Allison wasn't scheduled to visit me at all; I'd expected to see her when I went to District Two in a few weeks.

"Varius sent me," she said without preamble once I'd let her in. I was beginning to figure out how the chain of command worked in Two, so I wasn't particularly surprised. "He said Claudius was called to the Capitol two days ago and he still hasn't come home. We didn't want to risk giving you the information over the phone," she continued. "Memorie? Are you all right? You're looking a bit green."

That was unsurprising, seeing as I felt like I was either going to pass out or throw up at any moment. I frowned at myself, trying to marshal my thoughts. Claudius was undoubtedly the most valuable ally I had, and losing him would be a blow. Not a fatal one, though, so why did I feel like the building was collapsing beneath me?

"Memorie?" Allison said again. "It's probably nothing, but we don't have anyone in the Capitol right now except Theta, and we can't exactly call her and ask her to check on Claudius, because that would look pretty suspicious if anyone is watching us closely."

"I'll go," I said, already moving toward the door.

"What?" she asked. "Wait, that's not what I meant! You should stay out of the Capitol, especially if Claudius might be…" Her voice faded to nothing under my ferocious glare.

"I'm going to the Capitol, Allison," I told her, my voice and face perfectly calm. "It's not likely that anything happened to Claudius, but he's very important – essential, even – to what we're hoping to accomplish. Besides, he's all that's standing between me and Gallegos. I'll make sure he's all right and come straight back home."

Allison gave me a strange diagonal glance. "And this has nothing at all to do with the fact that you two are supposedly lovers, right?"

"Oh, that too!" I exclaimed, dragging her toward the stairs. I was glad for another logical, cool-headed reason to go chasing after a taciturn victor who might or might not be in danger. "Good thinking, Allison. Of course the public will expect me to visit Claudius if he's gone for any amount of time."

"I doubt most of them will notice one way or the other, actually," she said wryly. "Don't you want to at least take a toothbrush?"

I discovered I'd rushed out of my apartment empty-handed, adding to the picture of lovestruck foolishness I was desperately trying to avoid. "I'll be in the Capitol by nighttime," I told her. "My apartment there is fully stocked, and I'll be on the train in between, so I hardly need to bring a suitcase," I finished, adding a laugh to further my deception. It came out shrill and nervous-sounding, though, so I cut it short after a few seconds.

"Did it ever occur to you that if Claudius really is injured or dead, you could be walking into the same trap that got him?" Allison asked, softly enough that none of the people walking to or from the factories could hear her. "If we lose both of you, this whole plan is shot to hell."

"That's not true," I replied stubbornly. "Besides, even if it was, it wouldn't stop me from trying to find Claudius."

She sighed in a way that made the five-year age gap between us seem much larger. "At least let me go with you, then," she said. "I'm not much, but I can still take a bullet or two without slowing down, I reckon. Not that I think it'll come to that," she added hurriedly, seeing my eyes widen.

"Yeah, you can come with me," I reassured her. "Worst case scenario, we can pretend we decided to hit the stores for a bit of light shopping." She laughed at that, because she was probably the last person I'd take if I really wanted to shop in the Capitol. _Varius_ cared more about clothes than she did.

"And you're supposed to be the smart one," she chuckled, shaking her head. We'd nearly reached the station by this time, and I was glad to see a freight train loaded and ready for departure.

"We can take that one," I told her, pointing. "I mean, it's no where near as luxurious as the ones you're used to, but it'll get there just as quickly, and they're less likely to see us coming." Who _they_ were, I didn't know, but all her talk of bullets had put me on edge.

Smirking, Allison said, "Hey, you'd best consider who you're talking to, Renwick. I'm a Career, remember? Our version of luxury is a cot with blankets _and_ sheets." Once upon I time, I would've thought she was joking, but I'd visited her district and seen the barracks where the trainees slept. She wasn't exaggerating.

The conductor was surprised to see us, but wasted no time in finding us a comfortable place to sit for the duration of the relatively short journey. He tossed a few suspicious glares at Allison, but everyone who knew me in this district had gotten used to one or two Careers hanging around most of the time, so he let it go. "Have a safe journey, Miss Renwick," he told me, tipping his hat. "If you need anything, just bang on the divider with that crowbar."

"Thank you, sir," I replied. "And please, call me Memorie." The bony middle-aged man flushed and smiled, and I wondered when I'd become a celebrity.

We settled ourselves in the first of the freight cars, the one directly behind the engine. Allison, despite her earlier boasts about being a Career and used to hard living, muttered complaints as she shuffled boxes of computer components around, searching for a place to sit. I focused on the small ventilation windows near the top of the car, too high for me to see anything but sky beyond them.

_I'm coming, Claudius, _I thought. _Please don't be dead._


	16. In Need of Rescue

Three hours later – give or take; the supply trains weren't exactly models of punctuality – we ground to a halt in the Capitol. Allison wrenched the sliding door open and made her usual fuss about looking around to make sure we weren't walking into a battle zone before she let me out. We were in a loading bay on the outskirts of the city, but I could see the gleaming government center above us, and I made a beeline for it.

_Thanks for the new leg, President Snow, _I thought grimly, increasing my pace to a light jog. Allison kept up easily, looking across at me with a glowing smile I'd never seen before.

"This is great," she called, not even short of breath. "Just like the old days. Except I can't kill anyone, of course," she added, her smile fading somewhat. Then it clicked. I'd never seen her this happy because she hadn't been happy, not really, not since the arena. That was a scary thought.

But Claudius was missing and I didn't have time to worry right now, so I kept running and hoped Allison would remember that she wasn't allowed to kill anyone. When we finally reached the Capitol proper, Allison directed me toward Victor's Tower, still breathing evenly, despite the fact that I was panting hard enough to burst a lung.

I realized I didn't even remember Claudius' apartment number. I'd never thought to ask, since everyone made such a big point of telling me how rarely he left his district, and the only time I'd been there, it was too dark to see much. Allison guided me toward a corner of the building and knocked on the door marked 1C.

For a moment, there was no answer. The breath caught in my throat as my fears leapt back to the surface of my mind, sending me garbled images of Neera's death mingled with ones of Claudius, both now and as he'd been in his arena.

Then, the door opened, revealing Claudius himself. To my admittedly inexpert eye, he looked unhurt, but I pushed past him anyway and began running my hands impatiently over the exposed skin of his chest and arms, searching for wounds I might've missed.

Behind me, Allison cleared her throat loudly, and I jumped.

"What?" I asked, annoyed at having my inspection interrupted even for a moment.

"Would you like me to give you two some time alone?" she asked, and there was something obscure beneath the sarcasm and humor floating on her words. I snatched my hands back toward my own body and spun to face her, though I couldn't help resting one of my shoulders against Claudius' chest to reassure me that he was alive.

Claudius, seeming to find his voice for the first time since our abrupt intrusion, leaned around me to speak to Allison. "That won't be necessary," he said. His voice was rough, I noticed, and I drew back, afraid I'd made him angry. The expression on his face was one of startlement, not anger, so I relaxed slightly, but I made sure not to touch him this time.

"What are you doing here, Romano?" he asked, addressing Allison again.

She was looking at her hands to avoid meeting his gaze, and I recognized the flush high on her cheeks as embarrassment. "We heard you'd been sent to the Capitol and hadn't come home when Varius expected you to," she said quietly.

I spoke up, tired of being ignored while the two Careers talked at each other over my head. "I was worried and insisted we take the first train we could catch to the Capitol, in case you were in trouble. Allison tried to talk me out of it, and when she couldn't, decided to accompany me to keep me safe. It's not her fault, really."

Allison glared at me, opening her mouth, no doubt, to try to take some of the blame. Claudius shook his head, and we both went still. Of course, once I realized I was behaving like one of his trained flunkies, I made a point of shifting in place and examining my nails, because it wouldn't do for him to think I followed his orders.

"I came here at the request of Adjutant Gamemaker Moore," he said. "She wanted my opinion on her choice of terrains for next year's arena, which, I shouldn't need to tell you, took precedence over my other duties." He was censoring his words, I noticed, so I made sure to act as though someone was listening, too.

"Surely you'll be home soon, though?" I asked, deciding it was safest to play the role of needy lover for the moment. "I know the Capitol values your advice, dear, but things are ever so boring when you're away from the districts." Claudius stiffened, lowering his eyes to frown at me. I could practically hear the mask sliding back into place over his face before he answered.

"That's perfectly understandable, Memorie," he said consolingly, reaching out as if to put an arm around me before deciding against it and letting the arm drop back to his side. "I'm sorry I left so suddenly, and without letting anyone know when to expect me back. We can take the train back to District Two tonight, if you like."

I clapped my hands like a child, something I'd seen several Capitol escorts do when they were pleased. "Oh, yes, that's absolutely perfect!" I cried. "When can we leave?" Hopefully, my immature behavior would distract potential observers from the fact that I wasn't overjoyed to be in the Capitol.

"As soon as I pack my things," Claudius said. "You two make yourselves at home, and I'll be back shortly." He turned away, leaving Allison to follow me into the apartment and close the door behind us.

"Put on a shirt, old man," Allison called after Claudius, smirking. "Memorie might be enjoying the view, but no one else wants to see your flab." Wisely, in my opinion, Claudius didn't dignify that with a response.

Back on the train – a real passenger train this time, not my improvised version of one – Allison retired to the bar car after dinner, muttering something about "idiots from Three," and "need a drink." Unfortunately, that left me sitting across the table from Claudius, staring in awkward silence as an Avox cleared our dishes.

When the Avox departed, Claudius put a finger to his lips in a shushing motion and got up to prowl around the car, checking nooks and crannies for anything that might be a Capitol listening device. He came up empty-handed – either the Capitol hadn't expected us to be using this train or Claudius was losing his touch and we were all in trouble – and returned to the table.

"All right, Renwick, talk," he said. "What inspired you to come gallivanting up to the Capitol, dragging Romano along, no less, to see if I was _safe_?" He spat the word like an epithet and I leaned back automatically, taking myself out of range of any flying saliva.

"Exactly what we told you before," I replied, proud of how unruffled I sounded. From the sharp glare Claudius fixed on me, he was less impressed. "Varius said you'd been gone longer than he expected, so I thought it would be a good idea to check on you. No one's invincible, you know," I added.

"I'm pretty damn close," Claudius growled, leaning across the table so that I could no longer flinch away from him. "You, on the other hand… Any _child_ from my district could kill you blindfolded with one hand tied behind his back. You're hardly the rescue party I would choose in the event I found myself in real danger."

That stung, as I knew he'd intended it to, but it was also his attempt at changing the subject, so I ignored it. "Claudius," I began. "I was worried about you. Surely that's not a crime. You're not a lone assassin anymore, you're part of a team, and we have the right to be concerned if you disappear off the face of the planet all of a sudden."

"Everyone else accepts that I'm able to take care of myself," he shot back. "What _is_ this, Renwick? Even if you were worried, the rational response does not involve putting yourself, our leader, directly in the suspected line of fire." Then he paused, looking as though he'd been slapped. "Oh," he breathed. "I know what's happening. You think you're really in love with me."

I slid my chair back from the table, coming to my feet so that he was no longer staring down at me like he always did. "Hardly," I said, injecting my voice with all the scorn I could muster, because the idea was absurd. "However, you're a valuable asset to my cause, and I'd rather not lose you because you think you're bulletproof."

"Don't try that with me," he snapped, also getting to his feet. "We've worked together for a year now. I know how your mind works, and I know how easily your emotions can overwhelm your common sense. You don't love me. You love the power I represent. You enjoy having the victor everyone's afraid of ready to jump when you say jump."

I drew myself up to my full height, though now that he was standing there was no way to regain that particular advantage. "Pardon me," I said icily, "But I'm willing to wager I still know myself better than you know me. I can tell the difference between love and hunger for power." As soon as the words left my mouth, I wanted them back. That was tantamount to an admission that I did, indeed, feel love or something like it, when nothing could be further from the truth.

Thankfully, Claudius didn't seem inclined to pursue the issue. "You know what, I could use a drink myself," he muttered, and stalked from the car without another word. I'd expected to see anger on his face before he turned away, but instead there was something like confusion.

"Well, I know how to clear a room," I muttered to myself. "Theta will have to teach me more pretty manners the next time I see her."

I retreated to one of the sleeping cars, where I changed into comfortable clothes and sat on the bed, mentally replaying the day's events. My decision to go after Claudius personally had been guided more by emotion than logic; I could admit that to myself, if no one else. Love, though? I thought not.

I'd never been in love, not romantically. I loved the children in my daycare. I loved Neera, though that emotion had developed more after her death than in the few days I knew her, so it was based more on ideals than facts.

I tried to distance myself from the situation so I could study it objectively. Yes, I respected Claudius as an individual, even if I rarely agreed with his reasons for doing things. Yes, I found him physically attractive, but he looked virtually the same as Varius and Felix, so that wasn't a factor at all. Would I put my concern for him above my desire to end the Games? No.

On the other hand, though, I'd never objected the way others had to the idea of a relationship between two people so far apart in age, just as I'd never been morally offended by people's insinuations that Neera and I had been more than friends. Also, I enjoyed praise from Claudius more than praise from anyone else, but I'd thought that was because it was so rare.

With a sigh, I flopped back on the pillows. I still wasn't convinced I was in love with Claudius, but I hadn't managed to eliminate the possibility, either. My best option was to continue collecting evidence to support both sides of the situation and reevaluating at a later date. That way, I'd know where I stood the next time I argued with Claudius, and I wouldn't be questioning my feelings as well as his.

Fate wasn't feeling kind, apparently, because there was a knock on my door and when I opened it, Claudius was there.

"What?" I asked. If I didn't sound polite, it was because I didn't want to.

He sighed, passing a hand over his face. "Renwick – Memorie –" he started. "I didn't mean what I said just now. You're not a child, and it's unfair for me to treat you like one. Just because your strengths aren't the ones I was taught to value doesn't mean they don't exist."

"Is that all?" I asked, trying to sound cool and detached. I leaned against the doorframe, reinforcing the deception.

"No," Claudius said. "One more thing, then I'll go. I realize this is poor timing, but would you consider spending some time in District Two? I mean, you can go home and get your clothes and armor and anything else you might need, but something's going on in the Capitol, something big, and I want you where we can protect you."

"I'll consider it," I replied. "Are you finished now? I'd like to get some rest before we get to your district."

He nodded once, reluctantly, and backed away from my door, not leaving until I shut it in his face. I slumped against the wall of the compartment with a sigh of relief. We'd gotten through a conversation without mentioning the issue of love, so maybe we could ignore it, go on as if it had never happened. At least until I decided how I felt.

True to my word, I reclined on the bed and let the motion of the train lull me to sleep. When I woke up, the train had halted and the halogen floodlights of District Two's train station illuminated my compartment. Neither Allison nor Claudius came looking for me, so I let myself out of the compartment and tiptoed down to the main door. I couldn't see anyone outside the door besides the regular nightly Peacekeeper patrol, and I slid it open and stepped outside.

The night air was cool this high in the mountains, and I shivered, wishing I'd thought to wear a sweater at least. I looked around. It was dark outside the station, but I'd been in Two enough times to know the basic layout. Beyond the station was the amphitheater, and beyond that was Victor's Village. I headed in that direction, passing between the two Peacekeepers who bracketed the station exit. The one on the right gave me a nod of greeting, but neither said anything, to my relief.

After fifteen minutes or so of walking, I began to see lights ahead. I picked up the pace, glad I'd soon be out of the dark. In my district, wandering around at night was more or less safe, as long as you abided by all the laws and stayed away from the factories, but here, most people were hostile toward me.

When I reached Victor's Village, I noticed there were only two houses with lights on. One belonged to Varius, the other, since I'd never seen it occupied before, presumably to Ellise Beltrane. Felix's house would be dark whether he was home or not, but I'd expected to see lights in Claudius and Allison's homes too, if they'd gotten off the train ahead of me.

I made my way up the street and turned off at Felix's house. My knock echoed hollowly, seeming louder than it should be in the still night. As he'd done the first time we met, Felix greeted me at the door with a knife.

This time, though, he knew me, so he merely squinted at my face, exclaimed softly in surprise, and ushered me inside. "What the hell are you thinking, wandering around by yourself at night?" he asked, closing the door with a _click_. "Why are you even in this district? Varius told me Allison went to visit you earlier today, after we talked. Did you miss her?"

"No, she and I went to the Capitol looking for Claudius. That was a bad idea, unsurprisingly, but now all three of us are back here," I replied. "I didn't see the others on the train, so I thought they'd gone home while I was still asleep."

"If they did, they're keeping a pretty low profile," he said, pushing aside one of the heavy curtains to look outside. "What did Claudius say when you two showed up looking for him?"

"He wasn't happy." That was the understatement of the year, but I had no desire to get into the love debate with Felix, too, so that was all I intended to say. Words spilled from my mouth without permission, though, and I asked, "Do you think Claudius could fall in love?"

Felix snorted, settling himself on the couch beside me. "With you? I guess stranger things have happened, but I can't think of any off the top of my head," he replied. "No offense, but if he had a type, you wouldn't be it. And he's never expressed interest in anyone, not that I know of. He and Vega were close before she died, but I think that was more of a friendship deal." He went quiet for a minute before adding, "Wait, why do you ask?"

"Because he accused me of being in love with power and mistaking it for loving him," I said flatly.

Felix waited for several long moments, perhaps expecting me to go on. When I didn't he asked, "Well, are you?"

"Am I what?" I burst out, suddenly angry. "Am I in love with power? No. I hardly have any, the way you all insist on guarding my every move. Am I in love with Claudius?" I sighed. "I'm not sure. I'm grateful to him, certainly. I always will be, because he made Gallegos leave me be. I just thought it was a strange accusation for him to make unless he was feeling something himself, you know?"

A rustling of cloth told me Felix had moved his head, but whether in agreement or dissent, I didn't know. "Yeah," he said finally. "I could see it. Stranger things _have_ happened. Look at Theta and Varius."

I felt like my heart had stopped in my chest. "Really?" I asked. "Why me, though? I'm no Career. I don't agree with him about anything, from what kind of food I like to how I want this revolution to go."

Felix laughed softly. "You're something different, Renwick," he said. "None of us have ever seen anything quite like you. Neera hadn't, and what she saw made her decide to save your life without ever really knowing you. Allison had no friends outside the Careers, but she's spending more time in your district than ours. The old guard – Chard and Hinge and Claudius – hadn't budged from their houses in a decade until you showed up, and now they're traipsing around the Capitol like a bunch of kids with a secret. If anyone can get to Claudius after all these years, it's you."

For what felt like minutes, I sat in silence, amazed to hear so many words come out of Felix's mouth at once. Finally, I said, "I hope you're right."

Beside me in the dark, Felix shifted. "Hey, can I get you anything," he asked. "Food? Water? Hell, Jet must be rubbing off on me," he said with a sigh. "Next thing you know, Theta will be complimenting my etiquette."

Laughing, I declined. "We ate on the train," I told him. "Then Allison and Claudius both decided to drink, so I took a nap."

Felix leapt to his feet, rattling the low table in front of us. "Allison and Claudius are drunk?" he asked, sounding horrified.

"Well, I don't know about drunk, but they certainly spent a lot of time in the bar car," I told him. "What's the problem? I've seen them both drink before."

"Yeah, socially," said Felix, picking his way across the darkened room and throwing on a jacket. "It's when they drink alone that things get hairy. Come on, I'm going to see if they're still on the train." And he went outside, leaving me to find my own way across his jumbled maze of a living room and out the front door.

Outside, I jogged to catch up with him. "Can you keep that pace for any length of time?" he asked when I reached his side. I stifled a groan – much more of this, and I'd be Career material myself – but nodded. "Okay," he said, accelerating. "Just let me know if you get tired. It's only a couple of miles back to the station, though."

By the time we reached the Peacekeepers and the lights, I was breathing so hard my throat burned. Felix, none the worse for the wear, tossed a casual salute to the guards and led me up to the train, sliding the door back so I could step inside.

"I took that bedroom," I said, pointing, "So they're probably on the other end."

He nodded, and, taking my hand, led me down the corridor. When he got to the first bedroom, he opened the door a crack and peered inside. Then he stood back and swung it all the way open, revealing a disheveled Allison sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed.

"Leave me alone," she mumbled, squinting at our faces quizzically.

"Nope, you're coming with us," Felix announced cheerfully, lifting her effortlessly to her feet and draping her arm over his shoulders. "Go check the next room down," he said to me.

I sidled past him, pressing myself against the wall of the corridor to get by. Unlike Felix, when I got to the closed door, I knocked cautiously.

"What do you want?" Claudius asked.

"It's us," I said. "Uh, sorry, Memorie and Felix. Can I come in? He's here," I called softly to Felix.

"Yes," Claudius said, so I twisted the doorknob and let myself in. Claudius wasn't as bad as Allison, either because he'd had less to drink or he held his alcohol better.

"Are you all right?" I asked, walking cautiously to the side of the bed. He was lying down with one arm thrown across his face, looking more vulnerable than I'd ever seen him. It seemed improper, somehow, and I stood beside him stiffly, fixing my eyes on one corner of the mattress.

"I'm alive," he said roughly. "So no, I'm not all right. I'm tired, that's what."

"I'll take you home," I said. "Can you walk?"

He sat up, shook his head to clear it, and stood. "More or less," he said, bracing himself with an arm around my waist. Whatever he claimed, he was resting enough weight on me that I stumbled when I first tried to walk.

And when I eventually arranged him in something resembling a normal standing position, he bent again, this time to press a kiss to my lips.


	17. Mind Games

For an instant, I froze.

Then I came to my senses and shoved him away as hard as I could. Because he was Claudius, my shove only managed to make him grunt and pull his head away, but that was enough time for Felix to notice what was going on.

"Hey, Blaze, back off," he called, dropping Allison and moving over to pry Claudius away from me. "You take her, she's lighter anyway," he said to me, gesturing to Allison, who was leaning woozily against the wall. I took one more look at Claudius but did as Felix said.

"We'll take her to Varius and then get Claudius home," Felix said over his shoulder, guiding a stumbling Claudius out the door.

"Come on," I said to Allison, slinging her arm over my shoulders and putting mine around her waist. "How are you feeling? Can I do anything to help?"

"I'm drunk, not sick," Allison scoffed, stumbling against me and sending us both staggering across the platform. Then she stiffened, her fingers digging into my arm like talons. "God, so many of them," she whispered. "It didn't seem like so many, but now… How do I kill them all? Need a spear. No, wait, that's no good for the bloodbath. Knives…"

"No, Allison, it's all right," I said, shaking her. "Look, you're in District Two. This isn't the arena. You survived the Games. You're safe." Ahead, Felix and Claudius were outpacing us. "Felix!" I called. "Wait up! Allison is reliving her Games or something."

He stopped. "Shit. I was afraid that would happen," he said. "We need to get her to Varius before she decides to start fighting."

"Yeah, that sounds like a good plan," I agreed, panting slightly with the effort of propelling Allison forward. The two miles to Victor's Village felt more like two hundred, especially with Allison's ramblings growing increasingly intense. But finally, we were there.

Felix knocked on Varius' door with a booted foot, since both his hands were occupied keeping Claudius from falling over. No answer. I added my knock to Felix's pounding.

"Varius, open –"

And the door swung open, spilling yellow light over the threshold. I blinked. "What happened to you?" Varius asked, his eyes flicking from me and Allison to Felix and Claudius and back.

"These two decided to visit the bar car on their way back from the Capitol," Felix said. "Can you take Allison?"

In answer, Varius extracted Allison from my grasp, lifting her bodily into the house. Before he could close the door, I asked, "Varius? What happens to Claudius when he's drunk?"

"I don't know," he answered. "Claudius doesn't drink." He slammed the door. I exchanged worried looks with Felix before taking Claudius' left arm.

When we got to Claudius' house, the last one on the right side of the street, I said, "Thanks, Felix, I'll take it from here."

"If you're sure. Call me if things get out of hand. And if he starts thinking he's back in the arena? Run, Memorie," Felix told me.

I nodded. "Okay, Claudius," I said. "I know you like setting deadly traps all over the place, so tell me if I'm going to walk into anything I shouldn't. Or sit on anything, or…anything." I glared at him until he nodded in a way that convinced me he was paying attention.

"Let me go first," he said, bracing himself on the doorframe. "Watch that wire." I stepped sideways and he said, "No, other direction. See? There."

"And what happens if I move the wire? Step on it, or whatever?" I asked, carefully stepping over it instead.

Claudius closed the door. "That axe will fall on your head," he replied. I looked up at the ceiling, where there was, indeed, a double-bladed axe suspended from a second wire. Maybe it was a product of the long day I'd been having, but I wanted nothing more than to sit down on the floor and laugh.

"Don't get hysterical on me now, girl," Claudius growled. "Come upstairs. All the furniture on this floor is spiked." At the top of the stairs was another hallway lined with doors. Claudius walked all the way to the end and opened the last door on a large bedroom.

"Is this chair safe?" I asked, gesturing to a leather armchair in the corner opposite the bed.

"Nope," he said, sitting down on the side of the bed and beginning to unlace his boots. "Only things not spiked are my bed and the kitchen stools downstairs. I don't get many visitors," he added.

"I wonder why not?" I asked sarcastically, taking a seat on the bed beside the older victor. He shrugged out of his suit coat, dropping it in a heap on the floor. "Hey, you're not going to freak out like Allison did, are you?"

"I know I'm not back in the arena, if that's what you mean," he replied. "I guess time finally managed to heal that particular wound. I don't even dream about it, these days. It's worse for the young ones like Allison and Felix. One nightmare, one glass too many of the hard stuff, and they're back on the killing field, fighting for their lives. And you," he added, looking at me thoughtfully. "Is it ever like that for you? Do you feel like you're back in the desert?"

"Sometimes," I said slowly. "I have nightmares. Mostly about the desert, but other places, too, now that I've watched all the other Games. Lately, I usually have regular bad dreams, ones about being arrested and tortured."

"Maybe it's because you've never killed," he mused. "Maybe that makes it easier to forget."

"Maybe," I agreed, though I doubted it.

Claudius stared at me for almost a minute, saying nothing. He reached out and pushed a lock of hair out of my face, moving as if in a dream. I drew back hastily before he could get any more ideas about kissing.

"Remember how I said you weren't like other victors?" I asked, mostly to break the tension.

"Vaguely," he replied.

"I think it's because you aren't defined by your Games the way the rest of them are. Felix lives in the dark because it reminds him of his arena. Allison is only herself when she's doing something physical. Even the others – Chard, Barra – I can see them panic when something reminds them of their arenas. You're the only one who accepted the Games as past and moved on with your life," I said thoughtfully.

"I have a theory about that," he replied. "It's because I killed after my Games, which most of they others didn't. Woof, from Eight, is an exception. So is Varius. But even then, those were accidental, people lashing out in fear. I did it intentionally, rationally, in cold blood."

"But it was the old president," I said. "Surely, if anyone deserved death, it was him."

When Claudius smiled at me, the expression had definite edges. "Memorie. You're the one who refuses to kill another human being even when he or she is actively trying to kill you. Don't try to tell me you condone anything I've done."

"I don't approve of it, no," I said. "But I'm glad of the results. I'm glad we're facing the son, not the original. He doesn't have the same political network as his father, not yet, so we stand a chance of taking him down." I sighed. "I can't very well tell you not to kill anyone when I like what happens when you do, can I?"

"You could," he said. "It would be a bit hypocritical."

"Wouldn't it, though," I agreed. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I agree with you about everything. Your reasons for wanting the Games over, for example. They're not okay. And you're not better than everyone else because you invented the idea of Careers. That makes you a little bit worse, actually."

"What did you want me to do, sit around for twenty-three years and watch my kids die? I saw a way to keep some of them alive by making them stronger, so I implemented it," he said, sounding like his old self again. "Still, I accept that things are different now than they were twenty years ago. That's why I'm willing to work with you."

"Speaking of which, your latest victor, the Career to end all Careers, came to visit me today," I said. "Well, yesterday, really. I'm sure it's morning my now. Anyway, Ellise claims she wants to help us, since she'll be mentoring next Games."

Claudius shifted, looking at me curiously. "Do you trust her?"

"I barely trust _you_," I said. "Why would I trust her? No, I told her to come to the meeting in two months if she was still interested. Also that you'd kill her if she tried talking to Snow."

"Fair enough," he said. "That's what I'm good at." He didn't even sound bitter, just resigned.

I leaned forward and kissed him. I didn't like the despair in his voice. It scared me, because he was the one who always had a plan. He kissed me back, hot and hungry.

"Memorie," he whispered, drawing away just enough to speak. "You don't have to do this."

"I want to," I said. "I love you. I mean, I hate you, sometimes, but that doesn't matter, comparatively." He nodded pensively, and I knew I was probably supposed to be upset that he hadn't said he loved me back. I wasn't, though. I didn't know if I'd believe him even if he said it.

"If you mean that, come back in the morning," he said finally. "I need to sleep this off." I nodded. "Memorie? Watch the axe."

It was morning. I'd spent the night in Allison's empty house, because I hadn't been in the mood for company after leaving Claudius. Allison had arrived home at dawn, apologetic and nursing a pounding headache, but had gone through an even more intense morning workout than usual. "To make up for missing the one last night," she told me.

I hadn't gone back to see Claudius yet. For all I knew, the mushy stuff last night had been the product of his drunkenness and my sleep deprivation. I wasn't ready to test my theory in the bright light of day.

Instead, I went to Neera's grave. The last time I'd been here was during my own victory tour, when the dirt had still been freshly turned and bare. Now, grass covered the dirt, and it could've been one of the many others surrounding it, tombs of all the tributes from District Two who had died in the Hunger Games. Vega Jib's grave lay a little ways off, and I always wished Neera had been buried there, like the victor she should have been.

_Five hundred and sixty-eight days, _I thought.

Wiping the beginnings of tears out of the corners of my eyes, I stood. From this hill, I could see all the houses in Victor's Village, including the one belonging to Claudius. I swallowed hard, mustered my courage, and walked down the path.

Tentatively, I knocked on the door. I heard footsteps, then Claudius opened the door a crack, squinting out at me with bloodshot eyes. "Get in here, Three, it's bloody bright out there," he said.

"Right," I said, stepping inside and closing the door as quickly as I could. Claudius lowered himself to the floor, leaning wearily against the wooden rungs of one of his chairs. "This is your own fault, you know," I informed him.

"Which part, getting drunk or installing poisoned needles in all my furniture?" he asked, chuckling wryly. "Either way, I agree." He paused. "Memorie, I'm glad you came back," he said finally. "Honestly, I didn't think you would."

"Why not?" I asked. "I meant what I said. Sorry if you don't like it, but it's the truth."

He smiled. "I like it," he said. "Now, can we get down to business? After last night, I feel like I need to do something before I explode."

"Okay. How about you start by showing me the trainees you think are most likely to end up in the arena next Games," I said, taking his hand and drawing him to his feet.

"You're not going to like the training center," he warned me. "It's violent and bloody and all the other things about Careers that scare you. All the things you hate."

"I'll deal," I said.

And I did, even though the training center was worse than I'd anticipated. We only needed to watch the eighteens, the kids who would be eligible for the trials, but they were at the back of the center, behind rooms and rooms of younger trainees learning to kill brutally.

"This is the tens class," Claudius said, gesturing casually to a group of children arranged in neat rows, punching and kicking in perfect synchronization. An instructor stood at the front of the room, watching with a critical eye and shouting occasional criticisms. When Claudius walked past, the two men exchanged friendly nods.

"And this is the obstacle course. If you can't get a time of under ten minutes by the end of time you turn sixteen, you're out of the training program," Claudius told me. This room was larger, like an enclosed version of the amphitheater, filled with tunnels and barbed wire and sharpened stakes and other things that looked like they belonged in an interrogation room.

"Has anyone ever died in here?" I asked, unthinking. Claudius gave me a look that said I didn't want to know.

"These are the sixteens," Claudius said, leading me into yet another room. Here, the children had spears. They were sparring in pairs, reminding me uncomfortably of the final fight between Neera and her district partner, Quintus. There were notably fewer boys and girls here than in the areas with younger children, but that made sense if some dropped out or died along the way. As Claudius passed, each pair lowered their weapons and came to attention, saluting.

"Here are the eighteens," he said finally, opening one last door. There were only ten people in this room, five boys and five girls. "The younger kids can join the tribute trials if they think they can beat those with more experience, the way Varius did. Of course, the older ones don't like that much, and they'll team up to make sure no one earns the right to volunteer before their time."

"Sounds vicious," I whispered. The eighteens hadn't seen us yet, because they were facing the opposite wall, doing some kind of drill with swords. When they reached the end of their sequence, the instructor, a gray-haired woman with scarred hands, called a halt.

"Mr. Blaze," she called briskly. "To what do we owe the honor?"

"I'm just giving Renwick a tour of the facility, Dru," he said, taking my hand in his. "This is nice work you're doing here. I'm impressed. They look good."

"They'd look better if you and young de Luca spent more time here and less in the Capitol," she said. "Nothing beats real life experience, and for all my amazing skill, that's one thing I don't have."

"We've been a little busy, Dru. Sorry, but sometimes they just can't get enough of their victors," he told her, scowling.

The woman nodded stoically. "Well, why'd you bring her here?" she asked, gesturing to me. "If you want her trained, you might want to start her with the twelves. My kids'll knock the shit out of her. Hell, so will the twelves." She laughed, and not in a nice way.

I cleared my throat loudly, because both of them seemed to have conveniently forgotten I was standing right next to them. "No, Miss…Dru, was it? I'm not here to train. Frankly, I find this entire spectacle rather barbaric. If you really want these children to survive, you should be teaching them to think, not kill." Claudius tightened his fingers until my hand ached, but I merely narrowed my eyes at him.

"Got quite the mouth, doesn't she, Blaze?" the woman laughed. "Tell me, is it true? Are you screwing her, or is that all for the cameras?"

Claudius hissed, tensing beside me. "Watch your mouth, Drusilla," he snapped. "It's not for the cameras, and if you – or anyone else –" he said, fixing all the trainees with his darkest glare, "– says anything like that again, you'll see exactly how good I still am with one of those swords."

I rolled my eyes. "As much as I appreciate that, you're just as bad as her, Claudius," I informed him. "I'm a person, not an object. I have more brains than the lot of you combined, even if I probably couldn't lift one of those swords to save my life. Now, it was nice meeting you all, but I have other places to be." I spun on my heel, retracing my steps out the door and through the building.

Claudius caught up right away, of course, ruining the dramatic effect. "I thought you wanted to know who'd be in the arena, Renwick, not who could behead you fastest," he said. "Dru's about ready to tear your throat out for talking to her like that in front of her students."

"Sorry," I said, aware that I didn't sound sorry at all. I was still angry, so I didn't particularly care. "I hate when people talk about me like I'm not there. That's something you may want to keep in mind if our relationship is going to have any kind of future."

"Duly noted," he said, pulling me to a halt just outside the door to the training center. "Besides, I should congratulate you. I think that's the most fear I've ever seen from a class of eighteens. There's something to be said for intelligence, and you showed them that they're not prepared to deal with someone who can outsmart them."

"Sure they can," I replied. "All they have to do as put a sword through my head, then I can't outsmart them anymore."

"Yes, well no one's going to be putting a sword through any part of you as long as I'm here to stop them," he said, bending to kiss my forehead. I tilted my head so he got my lips instead and he hummed in approval, threading a hand through my hair.

"Claudius, your house is right there, so I'm not going to bother telling you to get a room," Varius said. I pulled away as though I'd received an electric shock, then laughed, because our entire relationship to this point had been nothing but intentional public displays of attention, and this seemed like a bad time to start caring about that kind of thing.

Allison, Varius and Ellise were staring at us unabashedly from a few feet away. "You know there's no one here but us, right?" Allison asked. "No cameras, nothing. Even Beltrane knows you guys are fake, thanks to Felix's big mouth."

"We know," Claudius said, smiling smugly and pulling me even closer, though I hadn't been sure that was humanly possible. "This isn't pretend, not anymore." I raised an eyebrow. Apparently, once he stopped denying that there was something real between us, he went for it in a big way.

"Damn, I owe Felix my best throwing knife," said Allison, looking glum. "We had a bet," she explained. "I thought you'd visit Neera's grave in the morning, he said you'd go to Claudius. This is what I get for betting against him when he obviously had more information than I did."

"Actually, I went to Neera's grave before I visited Claudius, so you won," I informed her.

"This is weird," muttered Ellise. "This was weird even when it wasn't real."

"Thank you for that assessment," I told her, ignoring the sour look she gave me. "Now, if you people don't mind, I'd like to get back to my district sometime today."

"I'll go with you," Allison said. "After I collect from Felix, of course." I almost asked what she got for winning the bet, but decided I probably didn't want to know.

"I'll come too," added Claudius. "What, like you didn't spend all your time in the Capitol when you and Theta first got together," he said, shooting Varius an annoyed look when he opened his mouth to protest.

We were distracted by the sight of someone jogging down the street toward us. It was Felix, his face pale, his expression grim. "I just heard from Districts Four, Six and Eleven," he said. "Chard, Hinge and Barra are all dead."


	18. A Family of Killers

We stood there in silence, shocked. I noticed how all the Careers stayed blank-faced, carefully not reacting with any obvious emotion. From Claudius, I knew that was something they learned as trainees, not to show weakness.

Allison recovered first. "How?" she asked, because there was no way it accident or coincidence, not all three at the same time.

"Poison in the water supply to their houses," he said. "They didn't even try to cover it up. They want us to know."

I shook my head, confused. None of them were reacting correctly. None of them were worried enough. I was panicking. "Claudius, did you use the water in your house this morning?" I asked sharply. "Did you drink it?" My hands were moving over his chest, his face, as though I could detect the poison and draw it out through his skin.

Claudius grabbed my hands, stopping their frantic motion. "No," he replied, and I thought that was the most beautiful word anyone had ever said. "I was in bed until you knocked, and then I went straight to the door to let you in. If you hadn't come…" He trailed off, shaking his head slowly.

I sank to the ground and began to sob, my tears equal parts grief and gratitude. _Chard, Hinge, Barra,_ I thought. _I killed them. All that stuff everyone says about me not having any blood on my hands, that's all crap. I killed Neera. I could have killed Claudius._

"Shh, Memorie, love, it's all right," Claudius murmured. I wondered if _I_ had died, because I was pretty sure that's what it would take for him to use my first name and an endearment in the same breath. He grasped me by the elbows and picked me up like I weighed nothing, cradling me in his arms the way Neera had on the first day of the Games.

"This is stupid, Claudius, you're the one who almost died," I said. "Put me down." If anything, he held me tighter. "All right. What do we do now? Are they going to come after the rest of us?"

Varius shook his head. "They can't kill off all their victors. Even the airheads in the Capitol wouldn't be able to overlook that. Besides, not all the victors are in on this. One should be safe. So should Seven, Nine and Ten."

"Shit!" cursed Felix. "I forgot about Jet. What if they try to off him too?"

"Felix, Varius, go call all the victors you can get ahold of," I directed. "Don't worry about the phone lines being tapped. If they know, they know. It's more important to warn everyone right now." The two men spun and took off down the street, and for once I was glad of the conditioning that told them to follow orders from someone who knew what they were doing.

"Allison, go after them," I added after a minute of deliberation. "Anyone they can't reach, try to get to them by train. They seem to be going after the original victors first, so Mags might be next on their list." Allison nodded and ran after the men.

"Now what?" asked Ellise, fixing me with her one-eyed stare. "They're not just going to leave him alone because he dodged one bullet," she finished, gesturing to Claudius.

"I know," I said. "That's why we get out of here now, go somewhere they won't expect. Claudius, I think you and Ellise should go to District Twelve. I'm going to stay here and try to get things back under control."

Claudius put me down so suddenly my knees buckled and I had to grab the front of his shirt to keep from falling. "And what good will that do?" he demanded. "You'll be the next Neera Salotti, the next martyr in a cause that's going nowhere. I just found you. I'm not letting you go that easily."

"You have to trust me," I told him. "I think we just need to wait this out, make it look like we're done trying to change things, like we've given up. The Games are coming up, and if we all stay apart, out of contact with each other, we won't seem like a threat. I'll stay in the Capitol with Theta and play up the escort angle. I'll be fine."

Unexpectedly, it was Ellise, not Claudius, who spoke first. "If you're staying here, I am too," she said. "It's one thing for old-timer here to go all missing-in-action, but I don't think they'll be willing to give up their most recent victor without a fight. Besides," she added, shooting me a smirk that made her look like Allison's younger sister, "You still have that issue with refusing to kill anyone. I can help you with that, if it comes down to violence."

It was my turn to nod wordlessly. "You can stay, then," I told her finally.

"Like you could've stopped me," she snorted.

I turned around and looked up at Claudius. "Will you?" I asked, nearly pleading. "Will you go to Twelve and lie low until we sort this out? Please?"

"If you think it's best that way," he said, though he didn't sound happy about it. I stared into his pale green eyes for what felt like a small eternity, trying to communicate all the things I didn't know how to put into words.

"Hey, if we're doing this, let's do it," Ellise said, grabbing me by the shoulder and drawing me forcibly back from the magnetic pull of Claudius' eyes. I started to protest, but she shook her head, saying, "You two can say all the sappy I love yous you want when this is over." Reluctantly, I followed her lead and stepped back.

After that, everything was a blur of packing and rushed goodbyes. Allison, Ellise and I took the train back to my district, where Allison gave Ellise a list of orders regarding my protection. The list was so long that Ellise finally snapped, "Shut up, _eight_, I can handle this," and Allison backed down, looking like she'd been slapped. Ellise had the good grace to look apologetic for bringing training scores into it, but I noticed she didn't actually say she was sorry.

Then I was back on a train to the Capitol for the second time in as many days. Theta was waiting for us at the station, her brow furrowed with worry. "Is Varius–?" she blurted.

"He's fine, or he was when we left," I said soothingly. "I don't know how much he told you on the phone, but the plan is for everyone but us to lay low for now."

"Oh my goodness, surely you don't mean to continue with this madness?" she asked shrilly, her fuchsia curls bobbing as she shook her head nervously.

"Of course I do," I said impatiently. "You've made progress with Twelve's escort. Now I need you to do the same with Six's, since Hinge is dead."

The day before the Reaping, Ellise and I left the Capitol for the first time in months, because I had to be onstage in District Three when Theta read the names tomorrow. At Ellise's insistence, I was already wearing my armor under my clothing, even though I sincerely doubted the Avoxes on the train were secretly Capitol assassins. Besides, if they were, they could just poison my food.

None of us had spoken to anyone outside the Capitol in weeks. I hadn't heard from Claudius since the day he left for Twelve, but he was supposed to be back in Two for the Reaping, so Allison would tell me if he was all right. Still, my hopes were high for the upcoming Games.

When the train began to slow, I stood up, standing on tiptoe by the window in the hopes of catching a glimpse of my district. I shifted my shoulders uneasily, not sure how far I could stretch before my scabs cracked and began to bleed.

"How's your back?" Ellise asked solicitously, for once refraining from making a single comment about how she'd gotten worse in training all the time.

"Better than yesterday," I replied. In Claudius' absence and the rumored dissolution of our relationship, I had become fair game for Gallegos again, and he'd taken full advantage of that fact. Also, the president no longer intervened to make sure I had adequate recovery time between torture sessions, so my back was a network of wounds in all stages of healing.

The whip hurt as much as it ever had, but the thought of what Claudius would do to the Head Gamemaker when he returned from exile had allowed me to retreat into the safety of my mind instead of crying out with every lash. Gallegos had taken my silence as an indication that he had finally succeeded in breaking me, and had begun to gloat, which served my purposes excellently. From him, I knew that this year's arena involved snow and a number of new mutts of which he was particularly proud. I had every intention of using the hard-won information to our advantage.

"I'll replace your bandages when we get to the apartment," Ellise said absently, watching as the towers of District Three resolved out of the gray blur beyond the window. "When we get off the train, spend as little time as possible in the open, all right? None of your usual stopping to chatter with district randoms, got it?"

"This is my district, Ellise," I sighed, because we'd had this conversation already. "No one is going to try to kill us. Besides, no one's tried to kill _any_ of us in months."

"That you know of," she replied darkly. If there was one thing I'd learned about Ellise during my forced sequestration with her, it was that she always planned for the worst possible outcome. "Listen," she continued, "If you die on my watch, Allison will be pissed. Claudius, too," she added.

"I promise not to die," I said, starting for the door. She couldn't let it go at that, obviously; she pushed me behind her while she scanned the empty platform for threats before grudgingly nodding me forward. Still, she hustled me to my apartment more quickly than I felt necessary, even repelling Mayor Platina with a glare when he tried to speak with me.

In the apartment, she slammed my door and leaned against it with a sigh. "Bodyguarding is much worse than the Games," she informed me. "At least I have _skills_, you know? All you can do is think really hard at your enemies."

"I never asked for a bodyguard," I reminded her. "Besides, which of us convinced Secretary Augustin that she'd rather spend quality time with Chime instead of you? You owe me." She didn't respond, but I saw her shudder slightly at the name. Rumor had it Secretary Augustin had bet half her fortune on the male tribute from District One, whom Ellise had killed, and was looking for vengeance. Career or no, Ellise wasn't excited at the prospect of acquiring a set of scars to match mine.

"Anyway, it's nice to be back," I said, looking around the apartment. It wasn't as luxurious as the one in Victor's Tower in the Capitol, but it had an element of privacy I liked. I sat quietly in my kitchen while Ellise checked for listening devices.

"Got two," she announced eventually, holding up a mess of twisted wires and grinning like she'd won a prize. "And the phone's probably tapped again, but that's your specialty, not mine."

"Good thing I'm not planning to talk about anything treasonous, then," I said, picking up the receiver. "I just want to check in with Allison and make sure everything's all right on her end. I dialed and leaned back in my seat while I listened to Allison's phone ring. Just when I was about to give up, she answered, sounding slightly out of breath.

"Allison, it's Memorie. Ellise and I just got in. How are you?" I asked.

"Oh joy, Beltrane's back in town," Allison said. "We're all fine," she continued. "Claudius too, before you ask. He arrived two days ago, and he's a bit scruffy from his time with the outliers, but otherwise normal."

"Good," I said, relieved. "So it's you and Ellise this year, right?" I confirmed, because I still didn't understand how District Two chose its mentors from year to year.

"Yeah," she said. "Of course, we're all going to be around, Felix because Jet's mentoring, Varius because Theta's escorting, and Claudius because of you," she added.

"Well, it'll certainly be nice to see everyone again," I said cheerily, because the phone was tapped and I couldn't say what I really meant, which was _let's hope they don't decide to kill us all at once._ Allison must've guessed from my tone that something was wrong, because she hastily concluded the conversation and signed off, saying she'd see me tomorrow night before the parade began.

That done, I settled down to business, pulling the tapes of the fifth and fourteenth Games from their boxes and settling myself in front of the television with my notebook and pen.

"What are you doing?" Ellise called from the kitchen, where she was pawing through my cupboards in search of something to eat.

"Watching the Games with snow," I told her. "The cold, white stuff, not the person," I added for clarification when she looked at me uncomprehendingly. "We know from Gallegos that the arena will be snowy and there will be wolf mutts and some kind of cold-resistant tracker jackers to deal with."

Despite the many disparaging remarks Ellise made when she discovered I intended to take notes on the Games – she'd never seen my notebook before, and apparently found it hilarious – she sat down beside me, munching her way steadily through all the preserved food that had remained in the apartment during my absence. And halfway through the second three-hour tape, she reached the same conclusion I was coming to.

"You're never going to do this without sponsors," she said. "Even if you're lucky and you get a pair who can hunt, they'll need shelter, warm clothes, and something to make a fire. No way they're going to pick all that up at the Cornucopia and still get away in one piece."

"We'll get sponsors, then," I told her, making sure I sounded more confident than I felt. "Our strategy will depend on the tributes themselves, of course, but Theta and I have already done quite a bit to get Twelve noticed this year."

Ellise snorted derisively. "All that making nice with stylists and escorts, you mean? Pretty costumes and a cooperative orange-skinned bimbo aren't going to do much if you find yourself saddled with a pair of twelve-year-olds who don't know up from down."

"I think Crystal's skin is more of a peach shade, actually," I said meditatively, ignoring her pessimism. "Besides, that's just phase one of the plan." Phase two involved all the allied victors dropping subtle hints to wealthy Capitolians that District Twelve's tributes looked particularly competitive this year. Of course, that wouldn't work if Ellise's dire predictions came true and we got a weak pair, but I was hoping that wouldn't happen.

Ellise sat quietly for a long time, the images from the television reflected in her glazed eyes. "I have to go back home tomorrow, for the Reaping," she said finally. "Are you going to be okay here by yourself?"

I laughed so hard I drowned out the sound of the tributes fighting onscreen; I couldn't help it. Ellise was looking insulted, so I calmed myself and explained. "I've never had a family before, did you know that? That's what this feels like, though. It's as if I suddenly have a bunch of extremely overprotective older brothers and sisters watching out for me."

"How is that funny?" Ellise asked. "I have an older sister. She used to beat the shit out of me all the time, at least until she lost her tribute trials and my parents kicked her out of the house. She hates me even more now that I won the Games. Siblings aren't a good thing."

That stilled the remnants of my laughter rather effectively. "They can be," I said softly. "You make a good sister. So does Allison. Besides," I added, trying for a bit of humor, "If you feel the need to hit someone, I'm sure Allison would be happy to take that challenge."

My attempted diversion worked. "As if," Ellise said, grinning. "If I want to spar, I'll talk to Varius. Felix and Allison couldn't touch me."

"You might be surprised," I told her. "They haven't survived for this long outside the arena without learning to fight dirty. I bet if Allison went up in front of the Gamemakers now, she'd get a ten at least."

To my surprise, she nodded thoughtfully. "I've always wondered about that, you know," she said. "The trainers claim we're in our prime when we go into the arena, but what about people like Claudius? He got an eleven like me, and that's when he was fifteen years old. If they tried to test him again now, they'd have to make up a whole new scale."

Considering the way all the Careers continued to train even after winning the Games, I suspected she was right. I imagined facing Claudius, as he was now – in his prime, as Ellise had put it – in the arena, and shivered. Maybe I was a bit biased, but I doubted even Varius could match him now.

_If only we could bring down the Capitol with brute strength,_ I thought. _Or stick President Snow and Head Gamemaker Gallegos and all the rest in an arena with Claudius and Varius and Ellise. _My mind automatically added _and Chard and Hinge and Barra,_ before I remembered they were dead.

But we couldn't. This new game, the one that came after the arena, was played with poisoned words and balances of power and knives in the back. It was the kind of game I had to play, because I saw how all the pieces fit together in a way even Claudius, with all his connections and schemes, didn't.

I blinked, bringing myself back to reality. "Hey, even I would get a higher score the second time around," I joked, earning another smile from Ellise. "You know, on account of how I can actually walk, now. Hell, I can even run. I'd say that deserves at least a two."

Once the laughter died down, we returned to strategizing. Ellise wasn't as good at this kind of thing as Allison and Claudius were, but I attributed that to simple lack of experience. And of course, she was still better than me, having studied the Games raptly since childhood. "Did you get any indication from Gallegos about the terrain?" Ellise asked, pausing the recording on an image of one of the tributes in the fourteenth Games hiding in the branches of a tall tree.

"Nothing," I replied, shaking my head. "I mean, we can assume a forest or mountain environment because of the snow, but beyond that, your guess is as good as mine."

"I know Senior Undersecretary Whittaker was complaining about the cost of fuel when they were building the arena, so it's got to be quite some distance from the Capitol," Ellise mused. "I bet it's somewhere in northeastern Panem. I'm thinking the outskirts of Eight or Twelve."

"Well, it it's Twelve, maybe our kids will have an advantage," I said.

"And by _our_ _kids_ you don't mean the tributes from my district or yours," murmured Ellise, shaking her head. "I'm still having a hard time getting used to that. It still seems wrong, like a betrayal."

"It feels that way to me, too," I told her. "I just hope it's worth it, in the end. If we can abolish the Games once and for all, we'll be saving many more children than we condemn."

"How are we supposed to go from helping one specific kid win the Games to ending them, though?" she asked. "That's what I've never understood." I'd explained this to the others, but Ellise hadn't been with us since the beginning, something I often forgot these days.

Even so, I hated giving the explanation, because it felt weaker and less likely to work every time I said it aloud. "We unite the districts by proving we're willing to make short term sacrifices for long tem gain. If we're not so focused on competing with each other, hating each other, even, we can work together and accomplish something. What if no one showed up on Reaping Day? What if everyone refused to work until the government agreed to end the Games?"

"You want another rebellion," Ellise breathed. "Not just reform, not a few concessions. You want everything. Well, no one can accuse you of not thinking big enough," she said, laughing shakily.

"Yes, I want another rebellion," I agreed. "But first, we have Games to win."


	19. The Viper's Nest

My hands were trembling as Mayor Platina and Theta made the opening remarks for this year's Reaping. I was hoping for something, but I didn't know what. Should I hope for tributes who were pleasant and biddable, so they'd help Twelve when I asked them to, or ones who were hostile like Dane had been, so I wouldn't feel as bad about sending them to their deaths?

I still hadn't decided by the time Theta reached into the girls' Reaping Ball, scrabbling to grasp one slip of paper with her talon-like fake nails. "Collette Morel," she called, and a willowy brunette made her hesitant way to the stage. As had become my habit, I leaned down and gave her my hand, helping her up to stand beside me.

Theta moved on to the other Reaping Ball. She drew out a folded piece of paper, and, after a moment's deliberation, read, "Andre Landry." The boy hesitated for a moment, but the group of sixteen-year-olds drew back, giving him no choice but to step forward. His hair was brown like Collette's, and he was tall and lanky. They could've been siblings.

After the obligatory forced applause and Theta's exclamation of "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" I went to the train to wait for my tributes. I switched on the television, even though I knew the Reaping in Twelve hadn't happened yet.

I found what I was looking for, a channel showing the Reaping from Two. Claudius was there, and I saw what Allison had meant on the phone. He didn't look untidy, exactly, just pared down, hardened, honed. Allison and Ellise were beside him on the stage, but I didn't see Varius or Felix. Maybe they were already in the Capitol.

A few minutes later, the train door opened and voices echoed down the hall. Theta led the tributes in, shooting me a sympathetic smile over their heads. "Here we are, dears," she said. "This is your mentor, of course. She'll tell you how to prepare for the Games. You'll all join me for dinner, of course."

When she'd gone, the other two came over and sat tentatively on either side of me. "Now what?" the girl asked. Her cheeks were streaked with dried tears, her eyes swollen and red. Still, she managed to pull herself together enough to ask the question, and that gave me hope.

"Now, I give you survival tips until the other Reapings are finished, and then we watch them, get an idea what we're up against. Then we eat dinner. How does that sound?" I asked.

"It sounds like you're going to get us killed, just like you did with last year's tributes," Andre said. I sighed. I wasn't particularly looking forward to dealing with a second surly male tribute. The boy took a deep breath and went on. "No, I didn't mean that. I'm sorry, Memorie."

I smiled at him. "It's fine. I understand you're both under an incredible amount of pressure right now. This must be the worst day of your lives. Maybe the odds weren't in your favor, or maybe you just got really unlucky. Regardless, I'm here to help."

_Yes! _I cheered internally. _Two cooperative tributes. I'm really going to do this. Maybe, _I cautioned myself. _I haven't seen the tributes from Twelve yet. No use getting my hopes up prematurely._

I spent an hour and a half giving Collette and Andre generic advice for the arena, combined with hints I hoped would leave them predisposed toward an alliance with Twelve. Then the Reapings – the complete ones, this time – came on, and I turned the volume up so we could all hear.

The kids from Twelve looked promising. The boy was sixteen, the girl, eighteen. Both wore threadbare clothes that made me think they'd been selected because they'd put their names in more than a few extra times, not because they had bad luck. They also looked tough, wiry, like they'd fight well with their backs to the wall.

Afterwards, we met Theta in the dining car. The kids were stunned by the array of food and drinks the Avoxes brought in, and I couldn't find it in my heart to tell them to lay off the sweets.

It was late afternoon by the time we reached the Capitol, the sun beginning to dip behind steel-and-glass towers that glowed with orange-hued light. Claudius was waiting for me at the station, and I shamelessly abandoned my tributes for the five minutes it took us to exchange greetings and kisses. We fell in behind Theta and the tributes as they started toward the Remake Center. I could already see that most of the reporters here to cover District Three's arrival were focused on us instead of the kids, because there was nothing the Capitol enjoyed more than romance.

"How was District Twelve?" I asked, squinting in the sunlight as I tried to understand the expression on Claudius' face. As though in answer, he lifted our clasped hands and pressed his lips to the back of my wrist, practically drawing me up on tiptoe so he could reach.

"Full of coal and trees and outliers," he replied eventually. I frowned, and he elaborated. "It's changed since my Victory Tour," he said. "Not for the better. People – orphans, the elderly, cripples – starve to death in District Twelve. Or freeze to death, in the winter. They're just as poor as Six, or your district, even."

"What did you do while you were there?" I asked. I was trying to keep him talking about his experiences so he wouldn't ask about mine. He didn't need to know how many times I'd been sent back to Gallegos in his absence.

"At first, I socialized mostly with Twelve's Peacekeepers, which didn't make me too popular with the people from the district itself," he told me, smiling a little. "They don't have a training center there, so I had nothing to do with my time." From his tone, the lack of a training center was a crime on par with murder.

We'd reached the Remake Center, and I waved goodbye to my tributes as Theta led them to meet their stylists and prep teams. "Only your district has a training center, Claudius," I reminded him gently. "And One, I suppose."

"No, just us," he scoffed. "One's training center doesn't deserve the name." We were walking in the direction of Victor's Tower now, because that was where we'd wait until it was almost time for the parade.

I lowered my voice and asked, "Did Allison and Ellise explain the situation?"

"From what they told me, it's not much different from last year," he replied. "Except this time we have a halfway decent pair of tributes to work with, the girl from my district hasn't gone rogue, and Twelve's escort is on our team. And," he added, "The president is probably going to be trying to kill us."

Because of his casual tone, it took me a minute to process the ramifications of his last sentence. "You really think it's come to that?" I asked, not caring when my voice shook.

"Almost certainly. I still don't know how Snow figured out what we were doing, but now that he's started picking off our allies, he's not going to stop," Claudius predicted grimly. "So, new rules for the duration of our stay in the Capitol: no revealing sensitive information indoors, no talking to anyone outside your district in the control room, and no taking stupid risks."

In spite of myself, I giggled. "Please, you know I only take intelligent risks," I said. Then I sobered. "I don't know how I'm going to manage in the control room without you, you know."

"You'll have lots of allies there," Claudius reminded me. "More allies than enemies, even. Allison and Ellise, Mags and Skiff, Jet, Canary, Burr…" he trailed off.

"It's not the same," I said. He patted my shoulder reassuringly but didn't say anything else. "I'm going to my apartment to change," I said finally, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen between us. "I'll come down to see you once I'm done, and we can talk until it's time for the chariots."

This year, the mentors' viewing room was crowded by the time I arrived, Allison and Ellise in tow. Mags waved to us from the front row, and we made our way down to her, dodging glares from the District Ten mentors as we went. I dodged, anyway; Allison and Ellise seemed as coolly impervious as always.

Most of our other allies were already crowded around Mags. Skiff was there, of course, and she and Ellise exchanged challenging stares that made me wonder if they were fated to be the next incarnation of the Felix/Jet tension. Canary was there, too, looking even less thrilled to see me than usual, and Burr entered the room shortly after us. He seemed lost without Chard at his side, and I made sure to welcome him as soon as he was within earshot.

"Looking good, Three," Ellise remarked, gesturing at my dress with her chin.

"Thanks, Ellise," I replied. I knew better than to return the compliment, since she'd be insulted by me saying she looked good in anything other than fighting gear. "And Allison, it's nice to see you!" Already, I detested the necessity of maintaining light conversation while being unable to discuss the things that really mattered.

Mags pulled me into the seat next to hers, chattering away about the costumes and the stylists and the latest news from District Four – apparently, she had no trouble generating meaningless gossip. There was a deep sadness in her eyes that hadn't been there before Barra died, though, and I could tell she was taking her mentor's death harder than she let on.

"It took you long enough," Skiff said, tearing herself away from an argument with Ellise to comment on Jet's arrival. "The parade is about to start."

Jet sat down on the fringes of our group just as the projector screen lit up with an image of the empty parade route. "My apologies," he said smoothly. "I was…delayed."

"Delayed by Felix, I bet," Allison said, smirking.

"Fantastic, details of the latest Career affair," Canary muttered to Burr, who merely smiled in return. "Seriously," she went on, addressing Jet this time, "Can't any of you stay focused on what's important for _two_ _seconds_?"

"Two seconds may be the limit of your attention span, Miss Chenoweth, but mine is rather longer," Jet replied mildly, never removing his eyes from the screen. Canary snorted, crossed her arms defiantly, and glared at the back of Jet's head.

A few rows back, District Eight's mentor, a man named Woof who I knew by sight but had never spoken to, leaned forward, watching the exchange with interest. I gave him a tentative smile, which he returned, revealing two missing teeth on his left lower jaw. A moment later, he got up and moved closer to us, sitting in the row with Jet, Canary and Burr.

"You don't mind if I join you, I hope?" he asked, his voice a clear tenor. His left eye wandered randomly, and between that and the missing teeth, I found myself trying to recall if he'd received blunt force trauma to the head during his Games.

"Of course not," Mags assured him. "Everyone, this is Woof. I assume most of you already know him. Woof, this is Memorie Renwick and Ellise Beltrane," she added, gesturing to us in turn.

He nodded to us politely. "Canary approached me about joining your little…gathering," he said, keeping his voice low. "I hesitated at the time, because you seem to have a high fatality rate so far. Now, though, I'm thinking I have nothing better to do with my time."

Canary, responding to the sound of her name, twisted around to look at the newcomer. "Great," she said sarcastically. "You couldn't have decided that _before_ I made my second trek out to that godforsaken shithole you call a district?"

I gave Canary a reproving frown, but she appeared unfazed, making a rude gesture in my direction before returning to her conversation with Ellise. "I'm sorry about that," I sighed. "I promise, we're absolutely delighted to have you as part of our group. I assume you're familiar with our objectives?"

He nodded. "That delightful girl managed to get an explanation across, amidst many colorful expletives, I might add," he informed me, hooking a thumb in Canary's direction. I smiled wider, because Woof talked like Claudius, with the same mixture of dry humor and unexpected wit.

Finally, the chariots began to roll down the lamplit street, and we suspended our conversation in favor of taking in the stylists' latest creations. _Time to see if Theta's networking did anything besides give her splitting headaches,_ I thought, already straining to see the District Twelve chariot.

I heard Jet make a faint sound of disgust as he took in his tributes' costumes, which resembled nothing so much as gaudily jeweled undergarments. Allison laughed in Canary's face when Five's tributes emerged dressed as a windmill and a solar panel, neither of which was the least bit flattering. And I smiled when the final chariot appeared, because Twelve's stylists had dressed the tributes in sparkling black from head to toe and refrained from smearing their faces with coal dust, as was common in the past. It wasn't stunningly inspired, exactly, but there was only so much you could do with coal. At least they wouldn't be subjects of ridicule this year.

"Are you going back to Victor's Tower?" Canary asked, falling in beside me unexpectedly as we stood up and made for the door.

"I was planning on it, why?" I asked.

"We should talk, and we can't do it here," she explained. "Let's go for a walk. We'll still go back to the apartments, but I'll take you the long way around."

"Hey, you're not going anywhere without one of us," Allison said, grabbing my elbow and pulling me to a halt when I tied to start off after Canary. "Beltrane, you keep an eye on them," she ordered, prompting Ellise to roll her eyes and sigh dramatically.

"I'm always the damn babysitter, just because I'm the newest victor," she grumbled, joining us. "Someone else from my district needs to hurry up and win the Games. Not until Twelve has a victor, of course," she added hurriedly, cowed by the ferocity Canary and I directed at her.

"If anyone's due for a victor – besides Twelve, I mean – it's Five," Canary countered. "We've only had one victor in the history of the Games. Even her district had what's-his-name –"

"Flux Lorrimer," I interrupted. "My mentor's name was Flux Lorrimer, and he was killed for helping Neera keep me alive, so don't you dare say anything bad about him."

"All right, that's enough," Ellise broke in, waving an arm between Canary and me as though she feared we'd resort to physical violence next. "Also, this may be a sign of the apocalypse. I start fights, I don't break them up," she informed us reprovingly.

"Yeah, we know," Canary said scornfully. "Anyway," she continued, switching her attention very deliberately to me, "I wanted to let you know that Snow's onto you. He hauled me in a week ago and asked all kinds of uncomfortable questions about alliances between districts, particularly alliances with victors from Two and Three."

My breath caught in my throat. Ellise dropped into a fighting crouch, realized what she'd done, and shook her head, hard, perhaps to dislodge the combat instinct.

"What did he say, exactly?" I asked tensely. "And what did you tell him?"

Canary looked at me tiredly. "I can't remember exactly what he said," she told me. "I didn't tell him anything he didn't already know, I don't think. He knows enough, though. Too much. He's the one who had Chard and Hinge and Barra murdered."

"Yes, we know," I said impatiently. "He tried for Claudius too, which is why he had to camp out in Twelve until the Games. Felix should've told you that months ago."

"No, he did," said Canary, looking uncharacteristically lost for words. "I got the impression President Snow is upping the ante, though. He spent nearly half an hour reminding me that the punishment for treason is death, as if I didn't already know."

"So what?" I asked impatiently. "We all knew the danger when we joined the alliance. I'm not going to pretend I'm happy to have confirmation that Snow's on our case, but what can I do?"

"That's the problem," Canary said grimly. "He knows Careers aren't exactly afraid of death. He probably knows the same thing about you. There are worse things than dying, Memorie."

It was the fact that she actually used my name, more than anything else, that made me realize the seriousness of the situation.

I took a deep breath, ignoring Ellise when she fixed me with an assessing stare, likely trying to decide whether I was having a seizure or anything else detrimental to my health. "I can't do anything to protect you," I said finally. "And I don't think Claudius can, either. If you want out, I'll understand. I don't want you to die for my cause."

"_Your_ cause?" Canary sneered. "This cause is just as much ours as yours. We've been looking for a way to change things for years, some of us since before you were born. My life is my own, and I'll risk it if I choose. I just thought you should know. I've already warned some of the others. You'll have to break the news to your precious Careers, though."

"I think we can manage that," Ellise said, her tone sharp as knives. "Now, if you don't have any objections, I'm going to take Memorie back to Victor's Tower, where it's at least slightly safe."

"Neither of us should go back to Victor's Tower without at least checking in out our tributes first," I reminded her.

"I don't give a damn about the kids," Ellise retorted, making Canary's eyebrows climb so far they were hidden beneath her fringe. "I mean, the government is invested in keeping them alive long enough to go into the arena and give everyone a good show, so they're not in any danger. You are."

"_We_ are," I corrected, frowning up at her. "Fine, if you insist, we can go directly back to Victor's Tower. I'll apologize to my tributes in the morning. Canary, are you coming?"

"No, I have a couple of things to do before I turn in," she replied, waving us off. We walked off in the opposite direction, Ellise propelling me along with a hand on my back. At first, we were silent, because what did you say when confronted with your almost certain death?

Finally, I said, "Can you tell the others? I need to talk to Claudius." She nodded.

Claudius was waiting for me when we returned to Victor's Tower, if the way he flung the door open halfway through my first knock was any indication. He could tell from the expression on my face that something was wrong, so he ushered me inside and slammed the door harder than was strictly necessary.

"Snow knows what we're doing," I whispered, bowing my head against his chest and struggling to contain my panic. "Canary says he's threatening to kill more of us, maybe all of us, if we do anything to influence the Games. Actually, she thinks they'll do something worse than kill us, not that I know what that's supposed to mean."

Claudius' face darkened, and he stroked my hair absently, deep in thought. "Well, Five is right; I'm sure our beloved president can come up with punishments worse than death. Torture, certainly. Physical torture, but psychological, too. That was always the younger Snow's specialty."

"I want to go ahead with the plan," I said. "Canary agreed with me, and I think Ellise did, too. She didn't object, anyway. We'll start tomorrow, when my tributes have information about the boy and girl from Twelve."

"No, you're not to get any more involved in this than you already are," Claudius pronounced. "Stay clear of us until these Games are over. Do what you can to help your own kids, but don't do anything else. I –"

"You what?" I cut in angrily. "You forbid it? You forbid me from taking part in the revolution I helped start? I don't think so."

He sighed. "I forget you're not one of my trainees, sometimes," he said. "You're not even from my district. You have no reason to respect me."

"I have every reason to respect you," I informed him, standing up straighter and looking him in the eye. "That doesn't mean I'll blindly follow every order you give. I love you, but that doesn't mean I'll allow you to shield me from danger at your expense."

"I love you," he murmured, as casually as though he said it every day. While I was still gaping in astonishment, he continued. "And that means I fully intend to shield you from danger, at my expense if there's no other way. Something bad is coming. I think Snow's gotten a taste for killing victors."


	20. Divergence

The arena wasn't what I expected. There was snow, yes, but no forest or mountain, merely a pristine field covered with at least a foot of whiteness. All the cameras were focused on the Cornucopia now, so the rest of the arena was still an unknown quantity, but this, the place where the bloodbath would happen, offered no cover and snow that would make it difficult to run.

The tributes were sizing the arena up. Even the Careers shifted uncertainly on their platforms, because while they'd been taught what to do in the event their arena was a winter environment, being confronted with the reality was something else altogether.

This year, the Gamemakers had arranged the tributes by district, alternating male and female, so Collette and Andre stood side by side. On the opposite side of the golden horn, Eden Trueshine and Zachary Fisk, the pair from Twelve, exchanged inscrutable glances.

"Look at Woof," Ellise whispered, and I couldn't tell if she was talking to me or Allison because she'd suited her own words, staring across the circle at District Eight's mentor. The man was hunched almost double in his chair, shaking and staring at the screens showing the Cornucopia as though he expected them to leap down from the wall and bite him.

"Do you blame him?" I whispered back. "He won the fourteenth Games, remember? That was a snow arena. This probably triggers all sorts of bad memories."

Allison shot me an approving glance and said, "Good girl," the way one might praise a well-behaved pet. She didn't even have the good grace to look chastened when I glared at her.

"No, I don't blame him," Ellise replied, ignoring Allison. "Hell, I can't even begin to tell you how glad I am not to be heading into that arena myself. I nodded in mute agreement. The desert had been several kinds of awful, but I wouldn't have wanted to trade either.

The gong sounded, catching all three of us off guard. I scrambled to my feet – why, I wasn't sure – and glued my eyes to one of the screens that showed the boy and girl from Twelve. As per my instructions, passed in secret via my tributes, Eden and Zachary ran, not bothering to pick anything up from the ground. This was a risky strategy, one that relied heavily on their escort's ability to get sponsors, but it allowed them to live through the bloodbath.

Collette and Andre did the opposite, wallowing through the deep snow in the direction of the Cornucopia, bracketed on both sides by Careers. When they had suggested the idea, I'd encouraged it, feeling even more like a traitor than usual. Collette reached the horn at the same time as the boy from Two, and both dove for the same spear.

"Let it go, let it go," Allison chanted, hands balled into fists at her sides. She and Ellise had instructed their tributes to ignore the kids from Three during the bloodbath in favor of more threatening targets, but the temptation to kill would be overwhelming with Collette just a foot or two away. Collette was smart and fast, though, and she released the spear and spun away before her opponent made up his mind. She snatched a bow and quiver of arrows from the snow and bolted, heading in the direction her allies had gone.

A little to the right, Andre and the girl from Four had locked arms in an awkward, staggering dance made deadly by the blades whirling on either side of them. I looked a question at Skiff, but she shrugged unsympathetically and said, "He started it," before turning back to the screens.

Eventually, the girl managed to throw Andre off, and he twisted away just in time to avoid the sword wielded by her district partner. Andre kicked at the boy's hands where he gripped the sword, and, in resulting moment of confusion, ran.

I sighed in relief, giving Crystal a thumbs-up across the room. As an escort, she could watch the Games, campaign for sponsors, and, since her district had no mentor, send sponsor gifts, but she really wasn't supposed to be in the room now. She returned my smile and slipped out the door, no doubt headed for the private parties where the wealthiest Capitolians would be watching and betting on the Games.

"They're fine," Ellise said, seeing the direction of my gaze. "All four of them are well away from the Cornucopia, and even with prints to follow, the pack will be more interested in starting a fire and finding shelter than hunting. Go."

So I did. Rather than following Crystal, though, I wandered in the direction of the administration complex, where some of Panem's top government officials would be getting ready to leave work for the night. I'd picked my mark days ago, and now it was merely a matter of waiting.

After ten minutes, he appeared, striding through the automatic doors of his office building like a king walking out to greet his subjects. A stately Avox woman followed at his right shoulder, carrying his briefcase and a stack of colored papers.

"District Liaison Harrods," I called, hurrying forward to intercept him, "Excuse me, sir, do you have a moment?"

He looked up in surprise, but smiled faintly when he saw me. "Ah, Memorie Renwick," he said, leaning forward to kiss my cheek in spite of the fact that we'd never met. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Surely you must be very busy today."

"Never too busy to speak with you, sir," I simpered, hoping he'd take the blush on my cheeks for happiness rather than anger. From Theta, I knew that Lanvin Harrods, liaison to the outer districts, had been trying without success to buy a night with me for two years. When I'd seen him interviewed on television earlier in the week and learned that he wasn't terribly intelligent, I'd pegged him as my first target.

"I merely wondered if I might spend the evening in your company," I continued, watching the portly man's smile grow. "I understand that you're a very busy man, but it would mean the world to me." The Avox was staring wide-eyed over Harrods' shoulder, perhaps wondering whether it was insanity or blindness causing me to address her master in such a fashion. I ignored her with difficulty, awaiting a response from Harrods.

"Certainly, my dear," he said at last. "Marissa, take a message to the minister of the interior saying I'll have to postpone our meeting until tomorrow morning." The Avox nodded and walked briskly off down the street, briefcase swinging in her hand. "There," Harrods said, taking a step closer to me. "Now I have an enjoyable evening ahead of me instead of another business meeting, and I have you to thank for it."

Harrods ushered me in the direction of his mansion, which, to my dismay, was on the same street as the Head Gamemaker's. Gallegos wouldn't be home today, though; the first day of the Games would certainly merit his undivided attention. After escorting me to the dining room, which held a table that could've held enough food to feed my district for a day, he ordered his Avox servants to bring our dinner.

"What do you think of this year's tributes?" I asked, waiting with as much patience as I could muster while Harrods chewed and swallowed a large chunk of steak.

"Fair bunch," he grunted, washing the meat down with a gulp of red wine. "None as lovely as you, of course," he added. I fought to keep from rolling my eyes.

"Are you planning to place any bets?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant. "If you are, I'd put your money on the girl from Twelve. She survived the bloodbath easily, and I've heard lots of people saying she's adapting better to the snow than almost anyone else." That was pure fiction, of course, but it wasn't like Harrods could accuse me of lying, since rumors were notoriously hard to trace.

"My dear, surely you can't think I'd bet against the lovely tributes from your district!" he exclaimed, sounding scandalized. "In fact, I've been thinking of sponsoring one of them. Which do you think is stronger, the boy or the girl?"

I grinned, pleased with myself. "Andre is stronger, but Collette is smarter," I told him. "Neither factor is going to matter if they die of hypothermia, though. That's cold," I added, catching his confused look. "They really need coats, or maybe material to start a fire."

"Of course!" he said, smiling jovially. "I should have realized that myself. I wish I could keep you around all the time. God knows you're smarter than me." I took a large bite of bread to keep from confirming that sentiment with a certainty he would likely find insulting. Assuming he was intelligent enough to be insulted, which I was rapidly beginning to doubt.

I didn't have to pretend to be excited at the prospect of Harrods becoming a sponsor, and I encouraged the expression to show on my face. "Sir, if you make the donation now, I can go over to the control center immediately. Your generosity might get my tributes through the night!"

For the tenth time that night, I gave silent thanks for the district liaison's lack of intelligence. He agreed at once, and I hurried back to the control room before he could realize that he'd just succeeded in cutting our faux-date short before things could get physical.

The circular room was emptier than I'd left it. Crystal hadn't returned yet, or if she had, she'd departed again before I got back. Both mentors from Ten were gone, and I tried not to feel a stab of vindictive pleasure when I look up and found their tributes' screens blank.

"Back so soon?" Allison asked, standing up and stretching.

"Yeah, and I have good news," I said. "I got Lanvin Harrods to sponsor District Three." I slid into my seat, eying the screen that showed which sponsor gifts I could afford to have sent into the arena. I scrolled past the more expensive items like food and weapons until I found things within my price range. It was still early in the Games, so basic items like blankets, coats and matches weren't terribly overpriced yet.

I selected matches first, because a glance at my screens showed that Collette and Zachary had led the group to a wooded area where – I hoped – they would be able to find enough dry kindling to burn. I added two thick woolen blankets that reminded me of the ones I'd slept under during my Games and touched my screen to release two parachutes.

The silvery half-spheres appeared almost instantly, and I wondered again how the Gamemakers managed to deliver the supplies so quickly. It was almost instantaneous, really. The parachutes went to Collette and Andre, of course, although I intended the supplies for all four tributes in the little alliance. Andre unwrapped the blankets, and all four kids cheered. Then Collette showed them the matches, and they got down to business, searching for firewood.

Hopefully, the fire would also help them obtain water, assuming they could find some kind of container in which to melt snow. Darkness was falling by the time they got the damp wood to ignite, and the fire gave off enough smoke that I was worried the Careers would see it and find them. I watched anxiously for the better part of an hour, and nothing attacked my group.

"I'm going home for the night," I announced to the room in general, since almost everyone there was part of our alliance. "Anyone want to join me?"

Jet and Mags both climbed to their feet and accompanied me, which would hopefully prevent my self-appointed bodyguards from worrying too much. Ellise frowned darkly but didn't forbid me from leaving. Someone had probably told her about last year's Games, when I'd kept myself alert with assorted stimulants for days at a time, then collapsed and slept for nearly a day.

"It's a good thing I'm _trying_ to lose this year, or this would have been a very bad day," Jet announced once we were well away from the building. "I can't believe Giada died in the bloodbath. Chime really is the worst mentor ever, but Giada was absolutely reckless. She fully deserved that sword in the back. Sorry, Memorie," he finished, glancing guiltily at me. I imagined my face had gone pale at the mention of the girl from One's death, which, while less gory than that of my female tribute in the last Games, had looked somehow worse with all that blood against the white snow.

"It happens to the best of them," Mags reassured him, patting his shoulder with one small hand. "Besides, your district has had too many victors recently. We haven't had anyone since Skiff, and that was eleven years ago."

The pair bickered good-naturedly for the remainder of the walk to Victor's Tower, and I trailed after them, tired after my long day. I left the others on the first floor of the tower, because I hadn't visited Claudius in several days.

"What happened to your back?" Claudius snapped upon opening the door, apparently deciding niceties like greetings were no longer his style.

"Pardon?" I asked, pretending cluelessness.

"Your hospital records," he growled, waving a sheaf of papers under my nose as I stepped inside. "Why did you spend so much time in the hospital while I was in Twelve?"

I sighed, because I'd really been hoping to keep this from him. "Gallegos," I admitted. "It wasn't bad," I rushed on, seeing the dangerous light in his eyes. "I got some information about the arena and the mutt's he's using this year, so it was totally worth it."

Claudius stalked toward me, and I unconsciously allowed myself to be herded backwards until my back collided with the wall. "Nothing is worth this," he hissed, lowering his face to mine. "Let me see," he demanded, drawing away to give me space. I obediently peeled my shirt off and turned around, showing him my scars.

He made a sound for which I had no name, something low and vicious that could have come from any number of large predators.

"Come with me," he said, tossing my shirt back to me and starting for the door. I shrugged into it and trotted after him. He took the stairs three at a time, something even my new leg couldn't handle. By the time I caught up to him, he was standing outside Varius' apartment, pounding on the door.

After several minutes, the door opened. Varius had obviously been asleep, because he was shirtless and blinking in the light from the hallway. Claudius surged forward, pinning the younger man to the wall with a hand around his neck.

"I was gone for four months, _four_, and you handed her back to Gallegos anyway," he hissed, shaking Varius. Varius made a strangled sound and lashed out with the heel of his hand, catching Claudius in the jaw and snapping his head backward so far I was afraid his neck would break. Claudius never loosened his grip.

"Stop it," I ordered, pounding on Claudius' broad back with my fist in an attempt to get his attention. "Claudius, put him down, _now_," I repeated, more sharply this time. Reluctantly, he did as I said. "Varius didn't know," I told him. "Ellise and Theta were the only ones in the Capitol with me, and I made them promise not to tell. It isn't his fault."

Varius looked at me, shaking his head. "You should've told us," he said finally. "Between the four of us, we could have stopped him."

"You couldn't have stopped him without killing him, and then all of you – Allison, Felix, Ellise, everyone – would've been executed," I snapped. "You Careers are always talking about developing pain tolerance and meditating during torture and all that other crap, and the moment I decide to try it, you go crazy and start trying to kill each other," I finished, frustrated.

Claudius and Varius fixed me with identical penetrating stares. "You don't know how to do those things," Varius said. "Our kids spend years learning to deal with pain. You have no training."

"Ellise taught me," I retorted. "As soon as we figured out Gallegos wasn't going to give up, she told me how it works. I'm a fast learner."

Claudius leaned against the wall and sank down until he was sitting on the floor, head in his hands. "I should never have gone to Twelve," he whispered. "I would have stayed, if I'd known. Memorie, I am…_sorry_ is too frivolous a term, but it's all I can come up with. I promised to protect you, and I failed. My life is yours."

I snorted. "Don't be ridiculous," I said. "I never agreed to any of this. Get up," I snapped. Claudius stood at once, looking surprised that he'd done so. "You're both acting like children," I continued, pivoting so as to include Varius in my telling-off. He opened his mouth to speak, but I raised my voice and talked over him.

"The real world doesn't work in absolutes," I said. "It's not kill or be killed out here; this isn't the arena. That's the problem all of you have, even you, Claudius. I thought you were different from other Careers, but you still define your life by the Games, just like they do."

"Memorie," Claudius began, but I raised a hand and he fell silent.

"Until such a point as District Two is prepared to live with reality," I pronounced, ignoring the hollow feeling in my stomach, "This friendship is over. For the cause, I'll allow the alliance to continue, but nothing more. Perhaps you were right from the beginning, and Careers and outliers were never meant to work together."

I spun on my heel and left, taking several flights of stairs down to my own apartment. I threw myself down on my bed, not bothering to undress first. The nearly-healed lashes on my back stung and itched, calling attention to themselves and reminding me what had started this disastrous confrontation in the first place. _Claudius,_ my heart mourned, _why couldn't you listen to me? Why won't you understand that something is more important than your pride, just this one time?_

In the morning, I rolled stiffly out of bed, feeling like last night's argument had been physical, not verbal. It was early, of course, because even two years after my Games, I was still on Neera's schedule. I took a quick shower, making the water so hot it steamed, suiting my mood. I grabbed my toothbrush and carried it into the living room, switching on the television while I scrubbed my teeth.

To my intense relief, all four of my tributes had survived the night. The Careers had already made their first kill of the day, bringing the number of surviving children to twelve. Eight had died in the bloodbath, three of cold, and one, the girl from Nine, on a Career's sword.

When the image on the screen vanished, replaced by a chart of the current betting odds, I smiled. District Twelve was in the middle, directly after the Career pack. Collette and Andre were next. Hopefully today I'd manage to convince more people to sponsor them.

I returned to my bathroom and spat out the toothpaste, rinsing my mouth with a palmful of cool water. Grabbing my hairbrush, I trotted back to the television.

I choked and dropped the brush.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we interrupt your regularly scheduled programming with an emergency broadcast," a Capitol-accented voice said. The screen no longer showed the arena, but a picture of Troy Gallegos. "We are devastated to inform you that our beloved Head Gamemaker passed away during the night. Authorities have not yet determined cause of death, though it is likely Mr. Gallegos died of natural causes. He will be succeeded by Adjutant Gamemaker Albina Moore. There will be no change to the 27th annual Hunger Games."


	21. Victory and Defeat

By the end of the sixth day of the Games, I was down to two tributes. Andre and the boy from Twelve had been caught by the Careers while checking their snares, leaving the two girls to fend for themselves. At least I'd had plenty of time to speak to potential sponsors, since I'd been avoiding Claudius since the announcement of the Head Gamemaker's death.

Responsibility for the murder – and it _was_ murder, although of course the Capitol newscasters couldn't say as much – certainly lay at Claudius' feet. I had no doubt of that, and if I'd been angry with Claudius before, I was furious now. Not only had he acted against my express wishes, he'd endangered my plan.

For once, I was glad Claudius had been the last of the victors from Two to join the alliance, because it meant that I'd befriended Allison before meeting him. As a result, she was still speaking to me, which Varius and Felix were not. Ellise, for reasons she kept to herself, had taken my side as well.

I jerked upright in my seat at the sound of cannon fire, locking my eyes on the screen that showed Collette and Eden huddled around a well-banked campfire. To my intense relief, neither had randomly dropped dead since the last time I'd checked on them.

"Final four," called Canary, as if we'd somehow lost count of the few tributes still in the frozen arena.

"Who was that?" I asked, unwilling to take my eyes from my own tributes for long enough to figure it out on my own.

"Seven," Skiff replied. "That leaves us, Two, and yours."

"Nice work, Three," Ellise said. "You're officially a Career now." From the way my face chilled, I knew I'd gone pale. "Just kidding," she added hurriedly. "Besides, I meant it as a compliment. There are two Careers and two of your kids in the final four, so it makes sense."

"Still no sign of the wolf mutts you mentioned," Crystal said. "I hope the new head gamemaker doesn't know how to trigger them, or something. I don't think any of the tributes are capable of handling wild animals at the moment."

"I don't know, the Careers have the advantage of being well-fed, at least," I responded. "Do you have enough money to send Eden something to eat? They haven't had anything since yesterday."

"I'll go talk to some people," Canary said, hopping lightly from her chair. "There's nothing more I can do here anyway."

"Be careful," I reminded her. "People will be suspicious if you show any interest in the Games now that both your tributes are dead."

"I know," she told me, rolling her eyes. "I'm not an idiot, Memorie. I was just planning to gripe about how strong and resourceful the girl from District Twelve is to the wealthiest person I can find." In spite of myself, I laughed.

"How long do you think we have left?" Crystal asked.

Beside Ellise, Allison spun around in her chair, glaring at the District Twelve escort. "Will you stop asking that?" she snapped tensely. "None of us have magic foretelling powers, all right?"

"I'd give it another two days at the most," Mags replied, shooting Allison a quelling glance. "And that's if the Gamemakers don't do anything drastic like trigger an avalanche or release those wolf mutts Memorie told us about." Mags was sporting swollen eyes and a red nose, I noticed. Her remaining tribute was slowly freezing to death, and she was finding it difficult to refrain from sending him a sponsor gift. She certainly had enough money.

"Shit, look at that," Ellise called suddenly, prompting all five of us to follow her pointing finger with our eyes. Onscreen, the boy from District Two was uncurling himself from his makeshift shelter inside the Cornucopia, sorting through the wide array of weapons scattered around the mouth of the horn. After a minute's deliberation, he hefted a spear and tucked a pair of knives into his belt.

"He's going hunting," I breathed. The Career took off across the trampled snow at a light jog, following the pristine trail of footprints my tributes had left on the first day of the Games.

Allison looked at me. "Bet your regretting all those days of wishing there wouldn't be a blizzard," she said wryly. I nodded. If nothing else, fresh snowfall would've made the trail more difficult to follow. Still, it would be several hours until the boy from Two actually caught up with the girls, and by then it would be nighttime in the arena.

I wasn't sure if that would be an advantage or not, but at least it might allow my tributes to make a clean escape. I doubted either could take the broad-shouldered boy on when they were practically weaponless, but maybe both, together…

"I'm sending them some food," I announced, scrolling down the list of possible gifts and trying to find something warm. "That way, I can send them a message. Warn them what's coming."

"That's the last of your money," Crystal worried.

I didn't hesitate. "You still have a little bit," I reminded her. "Besides, if things start looking bad, I'll go out again." I selected a picture of a pot of soup, then typed the message I wanted to send on the keyboard at the bottom of my console. The Gamemakers would censor anything too obvious, so I merely wrote _Incoming_, and hoped they'd figure it out.

Both girls cheered aloud when Collette opened the canister and found a container of soup and a spoon. Collette ate a few bites, then passed both the container and the slip of paper to Eden. To their credit, they both reached the same conclusion almost at once.

"The Careers," Eden confirmed, her voice slightly distorted as it issued from the speakers and into the control room.

"But when?" Collette asked. "She could have been a bit more specific."

"Not if she wanted it to get to us at all," Eden said. "Besides, what does it matter? We have this." She patted the bow at her side. The string had gone somewhat damp from the snowy environment, but her aim was still accurate enough.

"Still, she'd want us to set a trap or something," Collette said stubbornly. "We have a bunch of rope. We can do something with that." They'd acquired the rope a few days ago, when Andre and Zachary had killed the male tribute from District Nine.

"They'll see anything we make because of all this snow," Eden argued, kicking a boot through the thick white powder in disgust. "Oh, wait," she added suddenly, "What if we trampled all the snow around our campsite? Then they won't be able to tell were we've really walked.

"Or where we set the trap," Collette agreed, catching on.

"How long is that rope?" Eden asked, answering her own question as she drew the thick coils out of their pack. "This might work. Collette, do you think you can climb far enough up that tree to sling the rope over one of the branches?"

Collette walked over to the tree in question, a thick-trunked evergreen. "I can try," she told her companion. "What's your plan?"

"We don't have enough rope to do anything fancy, so I think we should loop it over a branch, tie a noose in the bottom, and hide it under the trampled snow. If we sit under the tree waiting for the Careers, one of them will have to step into the loop. We can yank on the rope and trip them. It won't be much, but it'll give us a moment of surprise, at least."

I realized they didn't know the boys from Two and Four had gone their separate ways. That would give them an advantage, at least, if they were facing one Career where they expected two. Neither of the girls had killed, though, and I afraid they wouldn't have the stomach for it. Collette had nearly cried when Eden and Zachary caught and skinned a rabbit on their second day in the arena.

It took several tries, but Collette managed to inch her way far enough up the tree's trunk to toss the rope over one of the lower branches. The two girls spent the next twenty minutes trampling the snow in a circle around their campsite that extended just beyond the base of the tree, leaving the ground more or less uniformly disturbed.

Then they sat down under the tree and waited, sipping their soup, as we in the control room watched the boy from Two make his way steadily closer.

"We're going to have to distract them," Collette said at one point.

"From what?" Eden asked, shifting in the snow to look at her companion.

"The rope," she replied. "It's almost the same color as the tree, but the shade and texture are different enough that they'll definitely notice if they look in that direction."

Eden nodded thoughtfully. "Let's make snowballs," she said finally.

"Snowballs?" Collette asked. It almost never snowed in our district, and certainly never enough for the kids to develop all the snow-based forms of entertainment that some of the other districts had. I'd seen a snowball fight between Felix and Allison last winter in District Two, so I had an idea what Eden was talking about.

"See, like this," Eden explained, showing Collette how to pack the snow into a tight ball that didn't immediately disintegrate. "At home, the grown-ups always lecture us on not packing the snow too tightly in case it hurts someone. I'd say we want to do some damage, don't you agree?"

Collette nodded, smirking. She dug through the snow and emerged with something clenched in her gloved hand. She held it up for Eden to see. A rock, a sharply pointed one. "Let's make some weaponized snowballs!" she said enthusiastically, packing snow firmly around the projectile.

The pair spent the rest of their wait amassing quite a collection of snowballs, which they piled into a gigantic lumpy pyramid in front of them. As the sun sank below the horizon, the boy from Two staggered to the top of their hill, using his spear as a walking stick. He looked tired from his long walk in the snow, but still energetic enough to pose a serious threat.

"Hey, look, a Career," Eden called tauntingly, climbing to her feet. His eyes locked on the two tributes at once, never straying to the tree or the rope.

"Let's get him!" added Collette, hoisting a snowball in either hand. Both girls hurled the balls of packed snow as hard as they could, hitting the boy in the chest and upper thigh. He grunted and snarled, but continued forward, moving as quickly as the slippery packed snow would allow.

Collette's second snowball took the approaching Career in the eyes, and he stumbled forward a few steps until he was just a few feet in front of the two girls. Eden squinted up at the rope and nodded to Collette. At the signal, they both yanked on the rope as hard as they could. The loop at the bottom caught the boy's leg, sending him hopping backwards on one foot before collapsing on his back in the snow, the spear spinning from his hand.

Eden let loose a wordless battle cry and both girls leaped forward over their mound of snowballs. Collette kicked the spear out of the boy's reach, while Eden discovered the two knives in his belt and snatched them up, baring one and holding it to his throat.

I held my breath. This was the moment of truth, the moment when one of the girls would become a killer. My words to Claudius echoed in my head. _It's not kill or be killed. This isn't the arena._ But the girls were in the arena, and kill or be killed should have been the official slogan of the Hunger Games. I looked sideways at the other victors and Crystal; their eyes were all focused, like mine, on the knife in Eden's hand.

Eden looked up at the other girl shakily. "Collette," she whispered, her voice shaking too. "What – what if I can't?" She looked back down at the boy, who glared back at her with eyes full of contempt.

Collette bent down and picked up the second knife, the one Eden had tossed aside. "Together," she said, baring the blade and lowering it to rest beside Eden's. "On the count of three. One. Two. Three," she finished, driving the blade downward. Eden mimicked the gesture, and both knives sank deep into the captured tribute's neck. Behind me, one of the other women gasped.

Both girls yanked their knives free, scrambling backward to avoid the blood that spilled from the two deep wounds. The Career gurgled, coughed, then fell silent. His cannon fired.

Allison and Ellise came forward and hugged me, and the gesture was so unlike them that I frowned and pulled away. "You're going to do it," Ellise whispered, her breath warming my ear. "It's the final three, and two of them are yours."

Allison, whispering in parody of her fellow victor, said, "They'd never have won in a real fight."

"I know," I replied, using the words to answer both of them. "You'll stay, right?" I asked, suddenly worried they'd abandon me now that both of their tributes were out of the picture.

"I don't know about Ellise, but I'm going to bed," Allison said, her voice resuming its normal pitch. "I feel like I haven't slept in days. Wait, that's because I haven't."

"I'll stay," Ellise said. "I'm too keyed up to sleep, and I can't handle all the drama back at headquarters right now." _Headquarters_ was what the Careers called Victor's Tower. I said nothing, and Ellise looked down at me solemnly. "You're breaking his heart, you know," she said finally.

"I'm not sure he has one," I replied tiredly, turning back to face my control panel.

Ellise refused to be ignored. She came over and sat on the edge of my console, effectively obscuring all the readouts. "He probably didn't, not until you came along," she said. "You know I'm on your team no matter what, but it seems a little harsh, that's all."

"Good," I spat. "Harsh seems to be all you people understand. I'm glad to be speaking his language for a change."

"You don't mean that," said Skiff, apparently deciding to join the conversation despite the fact that it was _clearly_ private.

"No, I really don't," I sighed, rubbing a hand over my eyes. "Still, what he did was…unforgivable. He can't go around hurting people every time he gets angry." Hurting was an understatement, but I didn't think it wise to discuss my lover's murder of the old Head Gamemaker in a room that was always bugged.

"Nothing's unforgivable," Mags said softly. "Besides, you know he can't have much time left. You should talk to him, at least. While you still can." And that was something that scared me every bit as the dangers my tributes still had to face before one of them could win. Someone would know Claudius had killed Troy Gallegos, and no matter how powerful his connections, no one got away with murdering the Head Gamemaker in the middle of the Games. It was only a matter of time before Snow had him executed.

"I'll talk to him," I conceded finally, getting reluctantly out of my chair. "But only on the condition that you stay here and watch the screens, and come get me right away if anything happens," I added, turning to glare a threat at Ellise. She nodded quickly and ushered me toward the door.

Claudius wasn't in his apartment, or at least, he wasn't answering the door. I scaled the stairs to Varius's apartment and knocked. Theta poked her head out after my second knock, looking tired and annoyed. "Oh good, maybe you can shut them up," she said irritably, dragging me inside.

"Excuse me?" I asked, confused.

"Varius and Jet and Felix and Claudius," she said, sounding extremely disgruntled. "Half of them are drunk and half of them are just sulking, and I'm no longer sure which half is which. It's disgraceful." I followed her into the living room, where I found a surplus of male victors occupying every horizontal surface.

"Who's that, Theta?" Varius asked from his perch on the coffee table. From the way he slurred every other word, I guessed he was one of the drunk ones.

"Memorie Renwick," Theta announced crisply. "You four had better get up _at once_, or she'll think the men from Districts One and Two have no manners at all."

Jet, who had been sprawled on the floor with his legs in Felix's lap, sat up immediately, looking wounded. "Of course we have manners," he said coolly, climbing to his feet. He drew himself up regally, only spoiling the effect slightly by staggering.

"May I speak to Claudius?" I asked, hoping to avoid any further interruptions.

There was a creaking sound from the couch, and Claudius peered over the high back, his dark hair tousled. "Yes, you may," he said, also getting to his feet. He, I noticed, didn't stagger or slur.

He led me into the bedroom, closing the door behind us. "What would you like to discuss?" he asked, his voice stiffly formal. "You can speak freely." That meant the room wasn't wired.

"Claudius," I began, "The Capitol – the president – will be forced to take action against us soon. I wanted to say…" I trailed off, not sure what, exactly, I wanted to say.

"They – the Capitol, Snow, even Gallegos – were going to come after all of us when the Games ended anyway," he said grimly. "I wouldn't have risked killing Gallegos otherwise, whatever you believe me capable of."

"Are you trying to tell me you didn't kill him because you were angry about what he did to me?" I asked carefully.

Claudius growled. "_Angry_ is an understatement. _Enraged_ might be closer to the truth. Yes, I killed him because he hurt you, but I wouldn't have done it if we weren't facing death anyway."

"You think it's come to that?" I asked, feeling an icy finger work its way down my spine.

"I know it has," he said, moving a step closer to me. "I told you before, the current president Snow isn't like his father. His father would've put everyone he even suspected of treason up in front of a firing squad. The younger Snow will make this painful. Psychologically painful. He'll make sure at least some of us live to feel the effects."

I closed the distance between us, resting my head against his chest. In the face of impending death, our earlier argument seemed trivial. Claudius took a deep breath and released it slowly, smoothing my hair with tentative hands.

"There's nowhere to run," I whispered, tears forming in my eyes. "It's not fair. I'm _this_ _close_ to accomplishing our goals."

"Oh, he'll wait until the Games are over," Claudius said. "We've disrupted them enough already, between your schemes and my murderous tendencies." I laughed a little, though the sound was choked with tears. "He's running out of victors, though. I don't think he'll take us all, just the core members of the conspiracy."

"So you and me, definitely," I said, pulling myself together enough to consider logistics. "Allison and Varius. Theta. Maybe Crystal."

"Probably Ellise," Claudius added. "He might spare her because she's such a recent victor, but as long as he's punishing you, I think he'll bring her in as well. I think the victors from other districts are safe, though. It's bad enough that he's killing off all of us from Two."

"I thought you said he wasn't going to kill us all," I said.

"No, but we'll kill ourselves if he tries to go to lengths we are unwilling to endure," he told me. I drew back, horrified. _What could be so bad that _Careers_ would choose death?_

"Tell the others," I said. "All of them, just in case. Tell them to be prepared for anything. Ask them not to give him the satisfaction of crying or doing anything else he'll like. I need to get back to the control room. I'm not dying for nothing. Eden is going to win."

I tore myself out of his arms before I could change my mind, before he could restrain me, running out of the room and through the apartment. Theta and Varius looked at me worriedly, but I waved them off and ran on, slamming the door behind me.

Back in the control center, I checked the screens immediately and almost collapsed with relief when I saw there were still three of them lit.

"Claudius says Snow's going to kill – or punish, I didn't really understand the details of it – all of us as soon as the Games are over," I announced. "You and Skiff are probably safe, Mags. You too, Crystal. But he thinks you'll be hauled in with us, Ellise." I wasn't bothering to whisper, because Snow already planned to do his worse to us. Overhearing this conversation wouldn't tilt things one way or the other.

"Then let's make sure we win," Ellise said, clenching her hands into fists. "Crystal, send Eden something. Anything," she said, cutting the escort off when she opened her mouth to speak. "Just send her a message. Tell her to end it now. The Gamemakers will let that kind of note through, because it guarantees them more action in the near future."

Crystal nodded, bowing her head and sending her fingers skittering across the controls. "Skiff, how close is he to dead?" Ellise asked.

The other woman looked down at Four's remaining control panel. "Close," she responded. "He's freezing to death. I'd give him another hour." Beside Skiff, Mags let out a muffled sob.

"Sorry, Mags," I said. "If it's any comfort, we'll all be out of your way by the time the next Games roll around." If anything, she cried harder.

"Okay, I'm sending it," Crystal announced. A moment later, a silver parachute appeared onscreen, beeping melodically. It landed on Eden's legs, waking her up. She opened it, and I was glad to see Collette remained asleep. At least her death would be relatively peaceful. Eden unfolded the slip of paper, its whiteness nearly lost against the snow. She flinched and looked up, directly into the camera.

"Do it," I whispered. She picked up her knife, lowering it over my tribute's throat. She closed her eyes, muttered something that might have been a prayer or an apology, and brought it down with all her weight behind the swing. The cannon fired almost instantly, and I gasped in sorrow and relief.

After that, it was just a waiting game. The wolf mutts never materialized, and it took the tribute from Four less than Skiff's predicted hour to die. His cannon fired and Tesla Monogram's projected voice crackled over the speakers, proclaiming Eden Trueshine victor of the 27th Hunger Games.

I smiled and hugged the others; Mags, Crystal, Ellise, even Skiff.

The door opened and a quartet of Peacekeepers stepped inside. "Ellise Beltrane and Memorie Renwick, you are under arrest," said one of them. "Surrender yourselves peacefully or we will use force."

I shot a warning look at Ellise, and she lowered her hands to her sides. If there was a chance of some of us living through this, I didn't want her endangering her chances by fighting the Peacekeepers, especially when they would simply call for reinforcements.


	22. In Their Honor

"Good morning, Felix, Jet," I said quietly, because I knew they considered first names a privilege available to family and close friends only in District Two, at least. The man on the right, the one with close-cropped blond hair and alert eyes, stiffened at the affront. His taller companion, with dark hair and a measuring gray gaze, drifted close enough to brush the blond's shoulder and hip with his own, a gesture so subtle I wouldn't have seen it if I hadn't been looking for something of the kind.

I leaned forward over my desk, brushing the presidential seal engraved there with my fingertips. I'd done that often in the weeks after I'd taken office following my father's death, to remind myself that I was no longer in charge of overseeing Peacekeepers, but responsible for the entirety of Panem. These days, I needed the reminder less often. Today, I caressed the graven wood lovingly, enjoying the power that came with my title.

Neither of the men standing before me seemed inclined to speak, so I dipped my head in a mock-solemn bow and went on. "Do you know why I've asked you to come here today?" I asked, keeping my voice gentle in counterpoint to the violence I knew would soon ensue.

The tall man said, "No, sir," in a silkily polite tone that still wouldn't save him. The blond merely shook his head.

I stood. "You are here because both of you are guilty of crimes against the state. Treason," I clarified, because the inhabitants of District Two weren't known for their intelligence. "The sentence for treason is death," I went on, mildly surprised when neither betrayed any emotion, but merely stood staring resolutely ahead.

Frowning, I withdrew the pistol from its drawer, gratified to see them both straighten automatically at the sight of it. "Fortunately for you, I am feeling generous today," I said, turning the weapon from side to side so the gleaming metal would catch the light. "Only one of you will die. The other may live, as long as he engages in no rebellious activities in the future."

I walked around my desk and held the gun out to the dark-haired man, butt first. "Jet, if you would do the honors," I said politely. "It is your decision. You or him."

As comprehension dawned, the man's eyes glazed over with fear and horror. He shook his head mutely, looking from me to his companion with pleading eyes.

The other man shook his head slowly. "Jet," he whispered. "Don't give him the satisfaction. I was always prepared to die for this."

"Felix." Jet's lips shaped the name, but no sound emerged. I felt my lips twist upward in a faint smile. Yes, this had been the correct decision. My father would've simply had the traitors executed publicly by firing squad, but my way was better. Rumor would still spread about what I'd done, and the survivors would be too oppressed by guilt and grief to band together again.

Jet spun, training the gun on me, but I merely held up my hand, showing him the device I held. "Either you choose, or I'll press this button and release the poison in your tracking chips," I said. "You'll both be dead within seconds."

"Jet," Felix murmured again, and I could hear a hundred other words behind that one, all unsaid.

"I'm sorry," Jet whispered, raising the gun, this time towards his companion.

The blond met his eyes with a fierce smile. "I forgive you."

The taller man took aim and fired.

I smiled, baring my teeth in soundless approval at the spray of gore that splattered against the wall of my office. I'd need to have it repainted when all this was over, and the stories the painters would tell could work in my favor.

As I'd anticipated, the man pointed the gun back at me, no longer caring about the threat of the poison. When he pulled the trigger, nothing happened, and I didn't even bother flinching since I knew I'd only put one bullet in the chamber. His face crumpled and his knees buckled, and I thought he was going to collapse on the floor in tears. He steadied himself at the last minute with a hand against the wall, though, glaring at me with red-rimmed eyes.

"No, he was right," he said hoarsely. "I won't give you the satisfaction of seeing me break." He dropped the gun to the floor. "Do what you want with me. I don't care anymore."

"You've already given me all the satisfaction I need," I told him, chuckling. That wasn't quite true, but it would be by the end of the day. "What I want is for you to go back to your district and live. Live out the rest of your life knowing you betrayed your friend here by killing him.

Something bright and hot sparked in the man's gray eyes, but it was gone before I could discern its origin. I shook my head and called the Avoxes waiting outside my door. One escorted the man out – she'd see him as far as the station, and report to me if he failed to get on the correct train – while two more disposed of the body.

"Why are we here, President?" the lilac-haired woman asked. Her Capitol-accented voice was steady, but the way she clutched the hand of the man at her side until her knuckles went white gave her nervousness away. The man was examining the fresh blood on the wall and floor, and I could see him calculating the odds that he'd make it out of this room alive.

"You, Theta Honeyman and Varius de Luca, are guilty of treason," I said bluntly, having taken some of the edge off my need for dramatics with the first pair. "You have plotted against your government, even going so far as to attempt to sabotage the Hunger Games. The penalty for your actions is death," I recited, not caring that I sounded almost bored.

The man snorted in an extremely vulgar manner. I took an automatic step backwards, not wishing to be showered with any of his bodily fluids. "What the hell are we doing here, then?" he asked. "Where are all the Peacekeepers? All the guns?"

"There will be only one weapon," I replied smoothly, holding out the reloaded pistol for him to see, "Because only one of you will die. And you, my dear," I said, offering a small bow to the woman, "Will do the honor of deciding who it is."

Her kohl-ringed eyes widened. "I – I don't understand," she quavered, taking a step back as I held the pistol out to her.

"Don't make her do this," the man hissed, clenching his fists in a way that reminded me exactly what he was capable of, even barehanded. I hurriedly explained about the tracker and the poison. This part was easier when both traitors were also victors, but I didn't think Varius could take the gun from Theta and shoot me before I managed to press the button that would release the poison into his system, so I wasn't worried.

He seemed to reach the same conclusion, because he unclenched his fists with visible effort and drew a deep breath. "Theta," he began. "I love you, and I'm very sorry you have to do this. If you aim right here," he said, tapping a spot between his eyes, "It'll be fast, okay?"

"You think I'd shoot you, Varius?" she whispered, her voice breaking.

"You have to, Theta. I'll die either way," he said, looking at me. I nodded in confirmation. He lowered his voice, trying to make it soothing. "I'm not afraid of death, Theta. I've looked it in the eye more times than I can count. It's only fitting that it ends like this."

The woman laughed, a sound like bells chiming. She was beautiful, I thought, and it was a shame that such a person should choose to betray the government that sheltered her. She had been a paragon of her kind, an example to all young escorts, before she allowed herself to be seduced by the barbarian from District Two.

"I'm afraid of death," the woman said finally, once her laughter had faded. "That's not going to stop me, though. I always knew I was braver than you," she finished, giving her companion a weak smile.

She backed away from him quickly, raising the gun to her own head. Between the eyes, just like Varius had shown her, though I didn't think he'd intended her to use the knowledge this way. She pulled the trigger just as he sprang forward to stop her, and he caught her body as it fell.

He, too, raised the gun toward me and found it empty. "You bastard, Snow," he growled, flinging the weapon aside and climbing to his feet. "I'll kill you, and I don't need a gun to do it."

"If you kill me, I'll kill you," I replied calmly, wiggling the device I still held. "And then her death will have been for nothing. Is that really what you want?" As anticipated, that made him pause for thought. If there was one thing ex-Careers understood, it was the concept of considering others' deaths in terms of their own potential gain.

Sure enough, he slumped, defeated. I smiled and called another set of Avoxes.

I sighed in genuine disappointment at the pair standing before my desk. I hated having to resort to such measures with a recent victor, and one who had triumphed so spectacularly at that. Nevertheless, justice had to be upheld, and I refused to have anyone thinking I was more lenient than my father.

"Ellise and Perdita Beltrane," I intoned, fixing the sisters with a solemn stare. "Do you know why you're here today?" Wisely, neither said anything, though the younger woman shot me a look that could've cut like a razor's edge, had I been any less composed.

"You are here because one of you is a traitor," I said, modifying my speech a bit this time. "Ellise, it seems even the honor of being a victor wasn't enough for you. You plotted to sabotage the Games and undermine the government itself." The sister gasped in shock, tears beginning to slip down her cheeks.

"Let me guess, the punishment is death?" Ellise said dryly, not even bothering to look upset. "How did I guess, you ask? That's the punishment for everything in this government, because it's _broken_. Your laws don't work, Snow, or you wouldn't find yourself faced with rebellion."

I drew myself up, looking at her coldly. "I _am_ the law, girl," I said, although I doubted I had more than five or six years on her. The important thing was that I'd had a classical education while she had grown up learning to hit things with sticks. That made more difference than age could have.

After explaining the rules, I passed the gun to Ellise. "So, let me see if I've got this straight," she said, tossing the weapon casually from hand to hand. "I choose which of us dies for my crimes, me or her? And if I don't decide, you'll kill us both?" I gave her a curt nod, because her insolence was tempting me to break my own rules and shoot her outright.

"Ellise, don't be ridiculous." That was the sister, who had dried her tears the moment she realized they weren't going to gain her any sympathy and was now regarding Ellise with calculating eyes. "You're not going to shoot me for a crime you committed," she went on, sounding as if she was trying to convince herself more than her sister.

Ellise raised an eyebrow. "You know, I never liked you. You always acted like you could do whatever you wanted, just because you happened to be born two years sooner than me. This is justice, big sis." She raised the gun and fired, a clean shot that killed Perdita Beltrane almost instantly.

"Hey, thanks for that, Snow," she said, turning back to me and tossing the gun in my direction. "Been wishing I could do that for years," she added, smirking.

I was displeased. "Get out," I hissed, pointing at the door. "This doesn't mean you're safe forever. I can kill you any time I want with the push of this button," I reminded her, holding up the device as a reminder. "I recommend you think twice before involving yourself in any more plots against me."

When my door opened for the fourth time, I barely bothered to look up from the paperwork on my desk. I heard one of the women gasp – the mother, I guessed, because the daughter was a victor and no stranger to blood – as she took in the several red splotches on my carpet and walls. One of them murmured something I didn't catch, so I finally decided to pay attention to them.

"Allison and Basilia Romano. I have ordered you to the Capitol today because one of you must atone for the capital offense of treason. The price for such criminal action is death. However, because I value the welfare of Panem above all else, even, though I'm loath to admit it, justice, I will not kill the guilty party and all her relatives." I said this all in one breath, partially because I wanted them in awe of my expansive vocabulary and partially because I was bored.

I had a difficult time restraining my mirth in the ensuing silence. _I value the welfare of Panem above all else,_ I repeated in my head. That was a good line. I'd have to remember it for future speeches, because it was exactly the kind of crap the idiots I was forced to deal with enjoyed. And if it failed to convince anyone from the districts…well, it's not like I'd ever cared about them anyway.

Allison Romano crossed her arms and glared at me. I'd had enough of that from Ellise, though, and managed to ignore it almost entirely. Her mother had frowned at the mention of treason and again when I'd talked about all the traitor's family members dying, but her face was carefully blank now.

For the fourth time today, I skirted the wooden expanse of my desk and held out a pistol loaded with a single bullet. "Here are the rules," I announced, confident that I had the pair's attention. "One of you lives, one of you dies. Allison, you get to choose which. However, if you fail to make a choice, I will kill you both. And don't think to threaten me with the gun, because the push of this button will release a fast-acting poison into your system.

As far as I recalled – or rather, as far as my many sources recalled – Basilia Romano had never trained as a Career tribute, so I wasn't worried that she would harm me, particularly with half a squadron of Peacekeepers within shouting distance.

Allison turned the gun over in her hands, staring down at it thoughtfully. I was half-afraid this confrontation would go the same way as the last one, because my informants had also mentioned an antagonistic history between Allison and her family. Eventually, though, she put the muzzle to her own temple.

"This doesn't mean I forgive you for making sure I ended up in the Games," Allison informed her mother softly. The older woman nodded, her expression sad. "And it sure as hell doesn't mean I love you," she went on. "All you've ever done is criticize me and tell me I'm not good enough. Even winning the Games wasn't enough for you. My mistakes are my own, though, and I'll pay for them with my own blood, not yours."

She pulled the trigger. I noticed that the mother had closed her eyes at the last moment. No, that one had certainly never been Career material. "I'm sorry you had to see that, Basilia," I said. "Let that be a reminder that no one defies me and lives. See that it doesn't happen again." The gray-haired woman nodded once, looking exhausted, and left the room.

I paced restlessly behind my desk as I waited for the fifth and final pair to arrive. The walls were lined with Peacekeepers this time, because I had saved the best for last and wasn't willing to allow even the slightest deviation from my plans. Besides, Claudius Blaze was dangerous. Having assassinated one president, he might get ideas about killing a second, and that wouldn't do at all.

Just when I was about to poke my head out the door and shout for one of the Avoxes to find out what was taking so long, they arrived. Unlike the second pair, this couple didn't hold hands. They marched in shoulder-to-shoulder, eyes front, like soldiers in a parade. Even their clothes matched, her black gown and his black suit elaborate enough for any Capitol party.

_Could they have known why I had them brought here? No. Surely not. None of the trains would've reached their districts soon enough for the others to warn them, and no one in the Capitol would have thought to telephone them, now that the escort woman is dead._

"Welcome!" I called, deliberately using the tone I assumed during my more important public addresses. This was my moment of triumph, and I would have it remembered as such. "Claudius Blaze and Memorie Renwick. Thank you for being here."

I waited for them to respond, but neither said a word, nor did they turn to look at each other the way I had been expecting. "You have been summoned here today because you are both traitors, guilty of conspiring to rig the Hunger Games and bring down the government." The Peacekeepers showed more life than the accused pair, turning and muttering to each other even though they were attending their president and should have stood perfectly silent until called upon.

I contained my frustration with difficulty. I'd planned a fairly long speech, but most of it banked upon the rebels responding to me, which they weren't. I skipped ahead to the end.

"The sentence for treason is death," I said, staring pointedly at the girl in the hopes of catching her reaction. Either Blaze must've told her already, or she was better at concealing her emotions than I had been at that age, because her face remained placid.

I sighed in disappointment, but continued. "Because I am feeling merciful, only one of you has to die." I held the pistol out to Blaze, who took it expressionlessly. "Claudius Blaze, the choice is yours. That gun is loaded with one bullet. You may shoot yourself or the girl. However, if you fail to choose or if either of you makes any threatening move against me, I will press this button, triggering the release of a fast-acting poison that will kill you within seconds."

Still, neither prisoner spoke. The girl stepped back, giving the man room to raise the gun. My fingers tightened on the release button in my hand, but he merely pointed the muzzle at his own forehead.

Without saying a word, he fired.

And still, the girl didn't react. She stared at the body on the floor as though it were so much rubble, then turned to look at me. "Is that all?" she asked, the first words either of them had said since entering the room. Her face was calm as a glacier, her voice positively frigid.

"Yes," I said grudgingly. I watched her retreating back as she spun gracefully and stalked out of the room. Hopefully the assigned Avox would remember to follow her as far as the station and make sure she boarded the correct train, not that it mattered too much at this point.

When the echo of her footsteps had faded, I motioned to the body. Two Peacekeepers leapt at my command, lifting the corpse with difficulty – Claudius Blaze had been a large man – and exiting the room. I gestured again, and the remaining Peacekeepers followed their compatriot through the door, nearly tripping over each other in their haste.

The door closed behind them. I picked up the inkwell from the corner of my desk and flung it against the wall hard enough that it shattered, blue ink mixing with drying blood in an intriguing pattern I might of found interesting under better circumstances.

_How dare they?_ I thought. _How dare _she_? That girl started all this trouble. Her and that bloody Career, the one who made a mockery of my Games. The cripple lived. I fixed her. She banded together with a bunch of upstart victors, including Blaze, who killed my new Head Gamemaker out of…what? Jealousy? It doesn't matter. Gallegos is dead, Blaze is dead, and the girl can be dead if I wish it. I know her type, though. If I killed her, it would be doing her a favor. Better to let her live. Live and suffer._


	23. Epilogue

"Give me your hand, Angel, it's time." The voice was quiet and gentle, as was the hand that reached down to twine itself through mine. Obediently, I stood, glad for the supporting hands on my back.

Outside, the sunshine was bright and the grass was green. Two people – friends, I thought, though I could never be certain of anything – guided me carefully towards the top of a softly sloping hill. The hill was crowned with tombstones, black and weathered by time.

We came to a halt between a quartet of stones that stood a little apart from the rest. As if at some unspoken signal, the hands that guided me loosened, lowering me to the ground. I ran my hands absently through the soft grass, trying to force my eyes to focus enough to read the words on the headstones.

"It's okay to cry, Angel," a woman's voice said. It was accompanied by a hand stroking my hair. "No one is here but us."

I shook my head slowly from side to side. It was never all right to cry, no matter what the voice told me. It was of the utmost importance that I not show any emotion, ever, lest someone see my weakness and use it against me.

"Who is buried here?" I asked finally, my voice creaking with disuse. I'd had to give up my attempts to read the names on the stones, because my eyes and my mind wandered like tired children when I tried to keep them still for too long.

A man knelt on the grass in front of me, his face creased with worry. His hair was gray, but if I tried hard enough, I could remember when it had been a deep, rich brown.

"Varius, she's not having a good day," said the woman, speaking from behind me. I tried to hold onto the name she'd used, because I knew it was important, but it slipped away like a fish. "Maybe we should go home," the voice continued. "We can bring her back tomorrow."

"No." It was an effort even to say that one small word, but I managed it. I shuffled in an awkward circle, disturbing the grass beneath my knees. The woman behind me was tall – or maybe she only seemed that way because she was standing and I was sitting – and her face bore the same lines of concern and sorrow and bitterness as the man's.

"It's all right, Angel," she said, her lips twisting upwards in a smile. It wasn't a real smile, I knew. I had seen this woman smile in joy and victory before, and this wasn't that smile.

"That's not my name," I complained, realizing I was whining like a child. "Why do you call me that? What's my name?"

The woman sighed and I heard the man behind me shift. "This is what you told us to call you," the woman said. "You used to get angry when we used your name. You said it was cruel irony, or something like that. I don't know what that means. You were always the smart one." She laughed bitterly.

Was I? I didn't remember.

"Angel, would you like to leave flowers by the graves?" the man asked. I shuffled in another half-circle, returning my attention to him. He cradled a bouquet of roses – how had I missed them before? – and now he held them out to me, offering.

"First tell me who's buried here," I said again, my voice stronger this time.

He sighed, but obliged. "This is Vega Jib," he said, pointing to the oldest and most time-worn of the stones. "You never met her, but she was the first of our victors to die. These are Felix D'iolani, Allison Romano and Claudius Blaze," he finished, pointing to the remaining three stones, which all looked to be the same age.

"They were my friends?" I asked. The names left a faint scrim of sadness on my mind, like a thin layer of ice over a turbulent river.

"Felix and Allison were your friends," the woman told me gently. "Claudius loved you, and I think you loved him back. He died for you."

"Hush, Ellise," the man snapped, making me jerk backwards instinctively at the harshness of his voice. He caught the motion and moderated his tone, blinking at me apologetically. "She doesn't need to hear that," he went on, still speaking over my head. The pair continued to argue in whispers, so I took the moment to place flowers on three of the graves.

"That's very nice, Angel," the man said approvingly, looking down at my handiwork. "One more, all right, then we'll take you home." Unsteadily, I scrambled to my feet.

I discovered I still held several flowers in my hands, clenching the long stems so tightly that the thorns dug into my palms and drew blood. Even if my conscious mind had forgotten, it seemed my subconscious remembered what I was here to do.

The man and woman – friends, I reminded myself, just like the people in the ground – guided me down one row in the main section of the cemetery. This time, I was able to read the name on the stone before my thoughts flitted away.

_Neera Salotti_, it said. With the words came a flash of recollection, the memory of a person cradling me in her arms as she ran. The face and body flickered uneasily, and for a few moments they were replaced by the figure of a man, older than me, but not as old as the gray-haired one with me today. I bit my tongue, hard, because both the faces made me want to cry, and crying was not allowed.

Bending at the waist, I placed the rest of my flowers on the grass that blanketed the grave. "She was your friend, too," the man told me, steadying me with a hand on my waist. "She was with you in the arena, during your Games." That brought back a few more memories, none of them good. I shuddered before I could stop myself, and this time the woman scolded the man for saying too much.

I clung to the memories, even the bad ones, as my friends escorted me back down the hill, back to the house I knew wasn't mine. Try as I might, I couldn't remember where my house was, or how it differed from the one I stayed in now.

Once we were home, the man and woman lowered me into a comfortable chair and sat down on the couch opposite me. As it always did, a tiny voice of warning cried out inside me, telling me the furniture in this house was too dangerous to sit in, but as always, I silenced it, and nothing happened.

"Tomorrow's Reaping Day, Angel," the man – Varius, that was his name – told me. "Ellise is going to take you back to your district in the morning, just in time for the ceremony. All you have to do is stand there. You don't need to say anything, okay?"

I nodded. Reaping Day was a bad thing, I knew, but it was an old terror, one that had long ago lost its teeth and claws.

"Is Snow going to make her go to the Capitol for the Opening Ceremony?" the woman asked. I assumed she was speaking to Varius, because I was sure I didn't know anyone named Snow.

Varius nodded slowly enough that I thought the motion indicated reluctance. "It's the second Quarter Quell, and since she won the first, I'm fairly sure he'll insist. He knows better than to try to make her give a speech, though. Look at what happened last time." I badly wanted to ask what had happened last time, but I knew my friends didn't like to be reminded of all the things I'd forgotten, so I kept my mouth shut.

"I want to go with her, then," the woman said. "I can't leave her alone with Snow and all the other victors."

"Ellise, no," Varius said. "You're not mentoring this year, and you know Snow's looking for an excuse to have you executed after you insulted his new Head Gamemaker. Besides, Jet and Canary will be there. Fetch too, and Eden. They'll take care of her."

Ellise didn't look reassured. "Yeah, but Brutus and Lyme are mentoring for our district, and you know they've both had it in for Three ever since Beetee killed that little knife-throwing prodigy of theirs," she argued. "Who's to say they won't take it out on M- uh, Angel?" I analyzed her slip with interest. Whatever my real name was, it started with an M.

"They won't," Varius said firmly. "They know we'll kill them – really kill them – if they hurt her."

Ellise let out a harsh laugh. "You know what, I almost hope they try," she said. "Brutus thinks he could beat me in hand-to-hand combat, and I'd love the chance to prove him wrong. I'm not _that_ old."

Varius snorted, and I looked up at him in surprise. "Brutus couldn't beat _me_, and I _am_ that old," he scoffed, running a rueful hand through his short-cropped gray hair. He got to his feet, and no matter what he said about being old, he didn't move like an old man. "Anyway, I'd better get home," he said. "Goodnight, Ellise, Angel." He barely stumbled over the false name. "Call me if you need anything."

When the sound of his footsteps on the front walk had faded, Ellise got up too, smiling at me cheerfully. "Well, Angel, looks like it's just us girls," she announced. "Come help me pick something for you to wear to the Reaping tomorrow, won't you?"

I nodded mechanically and followed her to the expansive closet in the bedroom. "You don't care about clothes," I said. She jumped and spun to face me, looking as if she'd seen a ghost. "What?" I asked. "It's true, you don't. Neither did…she." I trailed off, frowning as I tried to summon the name that had been on the tip of my tongue just a moment before."

"I wonder if you mean Allison or Neera," she said musingly, studying my face. "Either way, you're probably right. Fashion sense isn't something either Varius or Felix cultivated in their female trainees."

She turned back to the closet and began holding up dresses. I pointed to one that she'd tossed aside without consideration, saying, "I want to wear that one."

Ellise sighed. "You can't wear that one," she said. "Snow won't approve of you dressing like you're going to a funeral. Reaping Day is supposed to be a happy occasion. I'm not going to let him kill you after all these years over something as stupid as a dress."

"Why does he want to kill me?" I asked, curious. As far as I recalled, I'd never behaved in such a way as to make anyone dislike me, much less wish for my death.

She sighed a second time, more deeply. "President Snow doesn't like you – or me, or Varius, for that matter – because we tried to start a second rebellion," she whispered, sweeping the room with her eyes as though she expected to find someone crouched in a corner, listening.

"Oh," I said faintly. "That wasn't very smart of us, was it?"

"It _was_," she insisted, bringing her face close to mine so that I had to meet her eyes. "It was smart and brave and wonderful, and I'm not at all sorry we did it. Besides, we won. Do you remember? You helped the girl from Twelve win the Games."

"Not worth it." The words fell from my lips automatically, making me sure I'd repeated them many times in the past. _Probably when I could still remember things_, I thought.

"No," Ellise agreed, looking unhappy to do so. "It wasn't worth it, but we couldn't have known that at the time. And it would have been worth this and more, if you'd actually managed to finish your plan and create a revolution."

"No white," I said suddenly, swatting at the dress Ellise held with a shaking hand. She added it to the pile of rejects, and when she looked back up, her face was clear of the combined longing and regret that had lain there a moment ago.

"Of course not," she said, giving me a reassuring half-smile. "It wouldn't have been there at all if Secretary What's-her-name from the Capitol hadn't sent it to you. She can't have known what it would mean to you." I nodded, but was still glad when we'd buried the white dress under several others.

The silence was broken by someone knocking on the front door. Ellise bent and drew something long and silver and wickedly edged from her boot, motioning me to stay where I was. I heard the door open, and the sound of muffled conversation. Ellise came back into the room, trailed by a woman dressed all in purple polka dots.

"It's just your damn escort," Ellise informed me, sounding annoyed.

"Well, isn't that rude," the woman said, looking down her nose at us. Her accent marked her unmistakably as a Capitol escort. "I should have expected it, I suppose. I drag myself all the way down to this uncouth district just to find _her_," – here she paused to point an inch-long painted claw at me – "because the president told me _personally_ that if she's not at the Reaping tomorrow, there'll be hell to pay."

I stared at her blankly, my mind fighting not to be overwhelmed by the bright colors and clashing patterns. "I'm sorry," I said. "Who are you?"

The woman drew herself up, offended. "My name is Spectra Holloway, and I've been the escort for District Three for the past _twenty-nine years_. I assure you, we have met before."

With effort, I smiled apologetically. Even that much emotion was anathema to me after all this time of hiding, but I recalled, dimly, that I'd once been good at this sort of thing. "Please accept my apologies, Spectra," I said. "My mind isn't what it used to be." That, I thought, was the truth.

"Yes, well," Spectra huffed, fussing with her hair. "As long as you're on that stage tomorrow, there's no harm done, I suppose. Though this would all be ever so much easier if you'd live in your own district like a normal victor, dear."

Ellise interposed her body protectively between ours. "We've been over this," she snarled. "Angel stays here in Two with us, where we can take care of her."

"I don't care what you say, I still think it's all most improper," Spectra sniffed. "And why you continue to call her by that ridiculous name is quite beyond me."

I was tempted to ask her what my name was, but I supposed I'd find out if the president really did make me go to the Capitol and give a speech. Besides, I was almost positive Ellise would be angry if I tried to find out. Also, I knew from experience that people tended to think you were crazy if you asked them to tell you your own name.

Ellise and Spectra exchanged a few more hostile words before Ellise hustled the other woman back out the door, slamming it behind her. She stomped back into the room, muttering under her breath. "Damn woman just can't leave well enough alone," she said. "Makes me miss the days when your escort was on our team."

As usual, I had no idea what she was talking about, but I smiled and nodded anyway. "Here, how about this one?" I asked, holding up a dark blue dress to see if it met with her approval.

"Looks good to me," she said. "You might want to try it on to make sure it fits, though. This is one of the ones Claudius gave you, and you've lost a bit of weight since then." I dutifully stripped to my underwear and slipped the dress over my head, smoothing the fabric across my hips. Looking in the mirror, I saw Ellise had been right; the dress hung loosely on my frame. How long had I been able to count all my ribs at a glance? Surely that wasn't healthy.

"What do you think?" I asked, twirling deliberately away from the reflection in the mirror.

She smiled, but it was the fake smile again, the one that didn't reach her eyes. "I wish Claudius was here," she murmured. I looked at her questioningly. "No, don't worry about me," she said. "I'm only talking to myself. You look wonderful."

"Thanks," I said, bending down to change back into my normal clothes. "What will you be wearing? You'll have to look nice if you're going to be onstage with me."

"I'm not going to be onstage," Ellise said. "Oh, I'll be there," she assured me, perhaps seeing a hint of the panic I felt on my face. "I'll be covering you from the apartments with a gun, just like always."

I didn't remember much of my past, but I knew enough to be sure no one besides the Peacekeepers was allowed to have weapons, especially firearms. "You might get in trouble for that," I managed, though I knew the words were clumsy and stupid and didn't get my point across half as well as I would've liked.

Ellise laughed, and I looked up in startlement, because it was a genuine laugh, the one that hovered faintly on the fringes of my memory, elusive as sunbeams. "Yes, I might," she agreed. "They haven't caught me, though, not once in all these years. Security might be higher than usual because of the Quell, but they're not going to get me, Angel. Don't worry, I learned from the best." A shadow crept across her face, drowning the mirth.

Absently, I rubbed the tips of my fingers over the worn golden necklace at my throat. It was a little scratched from so many years of use, and I couldn't make out the words etched on the back. I knew they were important, but try as I might, my mind remained frustratingly blank.

"Hey, if you're going to the Capitol anyway, you can go visit Theta's grave," Ellise said suddenly. "We haven't been back there in nearly a decade. You can leave more flowers."

To my astonishment, that name meant something to me. Maybe it was because Spectra had just been here, so we'd been on the topic of district escorts to begin with. "Theta was District Three's escort, wasn't she?" I asked.

"And Two's before that," Ellise confirmed. "She died at the same time as the others we visited earlier. Except Neera, of course."

Again, mention of that name – _Neera_ – sent images flickering through my head. Sand, blood…two suns. Why two? I saw a smile, too, one I'd prized even more than Ellise's since it was so rare.

Ellise was speaking again, but for once her words didn't drive the pictures from my head. "This year's going to be a Career victory, I bet. I've seen the girl Brutus has been training. Right monster, she is. Not terribly bright, though. I wish victors weren't banned from betting on the Games," she said, sighing ruefully. "I'd love grabbing some of the money from those idiots up in the Capitol."

_Career. _That was significant too. "Neera was a Career," I blurted, proud to have made the connection.

Again, Ellise appeared pleasantly surprised. "Very good, Angel," she said. "Maybe you're not having such a bad day after all. What else do you remember?"

Looking into the depths of my mind was like groping through thick fog, but she asked, so I tried. "Neera saved me once. Claudius saved me twice. I used to say I'd rather have live friends than dead ones, but look how that ended up." I laughed a little, but the sound was like choking, so I stopped.

"Yes, that's right. Anything else?" she asked, coaxing.

I took a deep breath. All this thinking was making me tired, although I knew it couldn't be much past midday. "The rebellion. Or – revolution? The cause, I called it. It's important that I don't forget about it, even if I forget everything else. We can't work for it openly anymore, but we can pass our methods on to those who can."

This time, Ellise was floored. "There's our little mastermind," she breathed. "What should we do next? Do you have a plan?" Her face was alight with hope, something I hadn't seen in more than twenty years.

A plan was still beyond me, though. "It can't be us again." That much was obvious to me, even in my mentally clouded state. "I mean – not _us_ us, but not our districts either. They'll be watching us too closely. It'll have to be the outliers this time."


End file.
